I Never Lived
by AngelinaWeasley1
Summary: It's been almost two years since Voldemort's demise, and Harry Potter is finally living the life he never could. He continues his relationship with Hermione, but what could happen to endanger it? ::Sequel:: Permanent Hiatus.
1. A Friendly Friday Afternoon

A/N: All right human beings, here it is: **I Never Lived**, the sequel to **Lock and Key**. (It's not necessary to read the first story, for any newcomers. You'll be completely fine reading this one). I got plenty of people on my case about how I ended **Lock**, lol! I know—it _was_ a tad cruel. I apologize. :Evil smirk: But I always dreamed of ending it like that! Before I even had the first chapter written out, I knew it would stop in that fashion. Anyway, here's a new story, the follow-up. **Lived **won't be as long as **Lock**, at least 10 chapters shorter. It will, however, have a lot of drama and shite happening. I originally wanted to add song lyrics, but seeing as how that's not _allowed_!...

Nevertheless, I'll press on. Let's hope it doesn't take me a _year _to finish this story, lol. My goal is 6 months. If I stay focused and my sophomore year of college isn't too demanding, I can do it. I'll try to incorporate a lot of what's really happening (or what _happened_) in the series so I don't stray too far from the actual HP plot, but not everything will be parallel (obviously). I still need my own twist. Oh, here is a note for people who do **not** like or support H/H: do not read this fic, if it bothers you. It is Harry and Hermione. Sorry! I know what happened in the Half Blood Prince, but whatever :D

Moving on! That's enough rambling. Here is the first chapter to my new story. Hope it's satisfactory….

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 1**

He was her first mistake. This was what Hermione Granger decided as she sat at the polished wooden table, mindlessly scribbling on a piece of parchment. Of course, this thought had been on her mind for quite some time now, but it was only now that she admitted it to herself. Yes; he had been her first mistake, eight years ago. But could not profit come from mistakes? Was there no such thing as a good one?

Hermione certainly thought so. In her opinion, anyone who thought differently had a narrow view of what was what. That, and the fact that he or she had never heard of, or known, Harry Potter. Her hand passed dangerously close to the green mug of cold coffee that she had set down hours earlier as she continued doodling. A faint smile elicited her face. Harry…. She missed him, and he undoubtedly wasn't here with her now.

That was one of Hermione's problems: she missed him too much, even when it didn't make complete sense to miss him. Ah, but mistakes were often like that… they had the potential to have a hold on you, haunt you….

"Hermione! Darling!" a voice sang out as it suddenly slammed into her, like a train. It was enough to startle her. She jumped, and sent her cup flying off her desk.

"Oh, sorry about that! I've got it, love," the voice apologized. The owner, a young woman, stepped inside the office and took out her wand. She merrily said a spell and the mug flew back to its rightful spot, cold coffee in tact and all.

"Natalie—y-you caught me off guard!" Hermione said, steadying herself.

"Obviously." Natalie smiled, hands on her hips.

"Er, um… what's up?"

"You are wanted up front." Hermione glanced at the Muggle clock on her wall. She only had less than 20 minutes before her shift ended; she dearly hoped whomever it was did not require something massive of her.

"Thanks Natalie," she recognized, sighing a bit and standing up.

"Always, dearie," the blonde witch grinned, leaving the room.

Hermione straightened her thin, periwinkle blue robes and then left her office. They had three vertical, golden B's and were open so that one could clearly see her Muggle clothing underneath. All of the employees in her building wore the exact same thing, including the Muggle attire. It was their uniform and a part of the business' image.

The Muggleborn walked down the sunlit hall and made a left, into a much shorter corridor with a single, large door at the end of it. She magicked her brown hair into a bun before opening the door and entering the first, spacious floor of Books, Bludgers, & Batteries. Natalie had just returned to her massive place on the left, that served as a desk and check-out stand. To the right were about four sitting areas with three comfortable chairs each, all light blue or gold in color. Bookshelves, filled with books, lined the walls, and even spread out onto the floor. There were also oak tables and chairs placed strategically between the bookshelves and sitting areas.

Hermione scanned the vicinity, vaguely noting the few customers and two other workers. No one appeared to be waiting, or even _there_…

"Natalie?" Hermione carefully began, walking towards her station. Before her co-worker could respond, a very loud, intentional cough was given somewhere behind her. She turned around, catching a brief glimpse of the staircase that led to the second floor, only to see her mistake.

"Harry," she breathed, beaming. Harry Potter stood against a wall with his hands in his robe pockets, grinning. His black hair was the same as it had been in the morning since seeing him (and would _always _be the same: perpetually messy), and his green eyes were shining.

Yes, a few hours of separation and Hermione had already begun to miss him. However, that feeling vanished immediately upon looking at him.

"What are… what are you doing here?" she asked, positively delighted.

"I thought I'd buy a good book, not come to see my girlfriend," he answered, moving towards her. She tried to frown but could not.

"I mean, shouldn't you be at work?"

"Define work."

"Harry…"

"All right, so I might have left two hours early," he replied lightly, not meeting her eyes and smiling.

"Harry." Hermione bluntly said, staring at him. She managed to conjure up and actual frown.

"Oh, Medwick'll get over it! I've done worse."

"I'm sure," she muttered, "Well, are you going to go home, or wait—"

"We're leaving together. Now." Harry told her, looking amused.

"But I'm not off yet! I've still got—"

"To go get your things and come with me."

"Harry, I can't." Hermione insisted.

"Yes you can! I did," he rationalized.

"Yes, and it was wrong! Harry, you really cannot simply do whatever you want. There are consequences, and others depending on you! You know, you really—"

"Oh, go on Hermione," Natalie proclaimed, having heard their conversation. They both looked at her, "You are the most devoted person here! You've only got 15 minutes left. Besides, you weren't exactly multi-tasking when I came in." The brunette blushed a bit.

"But—" she started.

"Alex and I can handle things, and Talia comes in at four, which is in 15 minutes. Friday afternoons are a bit slow anyway."

"See?" probed Harry, happily.

"Go enjoy the rest of your day." Natalie remarked, sorting papers.

"Thanks Natalie," he grinned. Before Hermione could protest, he grabbed her hand and shot for the door she had just come through, labeled Employees Only. Harry said the necessary incantation and was allowed access to open it.

"You know, I should have never told you the spell to get back here," she noted.

"But you did. And, I'm in your office enough."

"Yes, though half the time it's unexpected."

"I like surprising you," he mischievously grinned. Hermione quickly looked away, refusing to let his smile unarm her anymore than it already did.

They passed the office of Gladys Tomain, which happened to be the only other office in Books, Bludgers & Batteries, and the largest. (The other three rooms in the Employee wing of the building were the stockroom, lounge, and bathroom). Gladys was the founder of the bookshop and Hermione was relieved to see she was too immersed in something to notice them passing, for she would have surely spotted Harry. Nonetheless, the two hurried by quickly.

Once in Hermione's office, Harry closed the door. She exhaled and let her hair back down.

"It was only me, Alex, and Natalie today. Gladys was here, obviously, but she's not a true employee, is she," she began, "But Fridays _are _a trifle slow, well, until the evening hits. Natalie has until six, but she did get here two hours after I did."

"What were you doing before I came?" Harry wondered, arms folded and eyes solely on her.

"You mean before you basically guaranteed your extermination," Hermione wryly smiled. He laughed, but kept with his staring at her, "Well, I was… thinking."

"About?"

"You." In a flash, he had closed the feet between them and locked his lips on hers, seizing her waist. She responded, after her initial surprise, by throwing her arms around his neck. She sighed and kissed him back, eagerly.

Some time later after their intense snog session (that had eventually been carried out on Hermione's desk), Harry and Hermione left the Three B's and were strolling down one of Diagon Alley's streets, holding hands.

"So, did you leave headquarters terribly early just to snog me?" she questioned.

"Yes," he answered truthfully, "It was so bad that it was driving me mad. I just had to. Now, a _shag _would have satisfied me even more, but I didn't think you'd have approved _that_ in your office."

"No, I wouldn't have." Hermione concurred, throwing him a scandalized look.

"Right. We'll just save the shagging for my office." Harry said, grinning evilly. Hermione's mouth fell open in embarrassment and she blushed mightily. After a few seconds she shut her jaw and looked forward determinedly, still red.

"What are we going to do now?" the former Head Girl inquired. She knew what she would have been doing normally: waiting for Harry to get off while she waited at their flat, usually with a book to keep her company. That, or either staying at Books, Bludgers & Batteries and putting in extra hours.

"Let's go to the Ministry."

"The Ministry? You just came from there." Hermione pointed out, looking at him once more.

"Yes, but we're going to see Ron," he told her.

"Why? You're not going to try to convince _him_ to be irresponsible and skive off _his_ job, are you?"

"No," laughed Harry, "I thought we could all go to diner. I just wanted to ask him."

"Oh, all right," she agreed, noting it was a lovely idea. The three of them hadn't been out together as a lone trio for at least two weeks, in which they could merely be the best friends that they were. And their last nightly outing had been with Luna Lovegood, though this wasn't to say it hadn't been enjoyable.

A couple of middle aged witches passed the two and smiled warmly; one beamed. _How much some people have changed, _Hermione thought, _or have simply gotten used to the idea of Harry and me_. Memories of the first months right after Hogwarts began to flood her mind. All of the press about them, good, bad, and horrible, all of the rumors, opinions, predictions, speculation, pictures taken—all of the _hounding_. She remembered being on the brink of tears, outrage, and insanity; they weren't allowed a moment's rest. Hermione recalled receiving the full experience of what Harry had gone through his entire wizarding life, and it only strengthening her love and admiration for him.

There was suddenly a blinding light and a popping noise. Hermione blinked a few times and looked for the source of it dazedly, still holding Harry's hand. The cause of it stood not very far off, holding a camera and grinning widely: the wizard had taken their picture unawares. Harry glared at the man, but Hermione led him away before he could retaliate.

_Maybe some things _didn't _change, and never would._

"Let's just Apparate there." Harry muttered, glancing surreptitiously up and down the street.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic was pleasantly active. Witches and wizards buzzed about completing or beginning tasks, fitting in conversations with fellow employees where feasible. The flying memos traversed the various departments delivering their messages, amidst the happy work that was being done. Of course, _everything _seemed to be happy now, everything was done with a better attitude. The entire wizarding world was much more uplifted; there was a positive light about it. And all of this, all of the changes that had occurred, made absolute sense. Ever since Lord Voldemort's demise, things had taken a drastic turn… it was as though the wizarding world could breathe again. All of the fear and anxiety it had once known, and for so long, was finally gone, and it was all in thanks to Harry Potter. 

The wizards who saw Harry and Hermione walking through the Ministry's halls greeted him jovially, and some took the time to have a brief conversation. (If anything else came from Voldemort's fall, it was that Harry's fame had multiplied even more. Now, however, he was damn near regarded as a king, and by 99 of the population. Far from pleasing him, it irritated the Boy Who _Prevailed_). A few higher ranking Ministry officials invited Harry, and Hermione, into their lavish workplaces for longer discussions, or asked if he wanted to let the Minister know of his presence. The old Quidditch captain denied both, politely.

It took longer than anticipated to get to Ron's actual office, but this was because once the couple got to the Department of Magical Games and Sports (Ron's department), Harry was like a child at Christmas. He stopped at most every desk, door and cubicle to talk to the person about, what else, Quidditch. He was insistent to know how every team was doing, and was pulled away by Hermione every time she feared he would begin bantering about the origins of the game. (This sign was usually his reaching for a chair).

Ron's office was at the end of the corridor, the very last on the floor. (He often commented that he'd be at the front of the floor soon enough; it took time, and he'd only been working a year. But considering that he had an office while people whom had been there longer still had cubicles was saying something). Harry frequently ate his lunch in Ron's office, coming from level two, as they avidly talked Quidditch. Other topics were discussed, but 60 of their words pertained to the wizarding sport. Effects like these happened when your best friend had achieved a lifetime goal and worked for the Chudley Cannons.

They heard his voice flowing from the room in a torrent as they approached. He sounded animated but aggressive.

"So tell Yornof, no—we _won't _settle for the Orion 320's! Padawreski already has the 321's!"

Harry stuck his head inside. Ron Weasley sat back in his chair with his hands locked behind his neck and his long legs thrown across his desk. His blue eyes were closed, and a piece of parchment floated in mid-air, a quill dashing across it. There was orange all around, along with old Quidditch balls scattered here and there. It was quite messy but gave off a cozy feeling; in essence, it reeked of Ron.

"A-_hem_!" Harry remarked, his eyes having just been torn away from a poster of the Gryffindor lion. (It always grabbed his attention). Hermione stood next to him, smiling. Ron's eyes flew open.

"Harry! Hermione!" he exclaimed, grinning. He pointed his wand at the quill and it ceased what it was doing. Standing up, the redhead jerked his wand and the materials flew on his desk. He was still the same, still the youngest in his department at only 20, and still the tallest, at 6'4".

"Missed you at lunch today, Harry," Ron commented, "You would have _loved _it—Wilkes stopped by, and even asked about you!" Harry shook his head, exhaling angrily.

"I was stuck at headquarters. Medwick is on some bloody rampage, trying to close this case," he reported.

"Aren't… aren't you still working?"

"I am until someone notices I'm gone," he grinned.

"Excellent," grinned Ron in return.

"It is not." Hermione corrected, moving to sit down on the orange sofa. Ron looked at her, smirking.

"Yeah, Hermione's a little upset about it."

"She'll get over it," the youngest Weasley boy predicted.

"She always does," Harry added, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface. Her mouth fell open in an affronted manner as she scowled at them, "Hey Ron, mate—do you want to go to dinner later?"

"I'm always up for food!"

"That you are." Hermione mumbled, arms crossed.

"What time?" Ron asked.

"Whenever you get off." Harry said.

"At five, but I promised Luna that I'd stop by for a while… so, six?"

"We are _not _eating a restaurant picked by either of you," Hermione spoke up, "I will decide. I _still _have scars from the last time…"

"You were the only one who found anything wrong with my pick, Hermione. It was brilliant!" Ron insisted.

"I won't waste my breath by responding to that, Ron. Now, I know of this wonderful little place in London…"

"It's not Muggle, is it?"

"So what if it is," she pondered, rounding on him, "It's _nice _and we're going to have an _enchanting _time!" It came out sounding like a threat. Every single time the trio went out to Muggle establishments, Ron would find some way to bring attention to them. His favorite was complaining loudly about pound notes and pence. The last time, he had been too impatient for the waiter to refill his glass so he whipped out his wand to do it himself.

They took a risk each time they went with Ron on a Muggle outing, but Hermione was determined to educate him.

"Okay, six o'clock, Hermione's choice," Harry noted, not wanting an argument to ensue, "Just Apparate to the flat, Ron."

"Noted," the once Keeper answered brightly, beginning to resume his previous assignment, "Hey, if you see Percy on your way out, tell him to come see me. I have a, er… small _gift_, for him, from Fred and George!"

Harry and Hermione had almost gotten out of the Ministry without incident. As they prepared to Apparate, a voice shouted his name. His heart froze for a minute as he stood there. _Oh Merlin, if it's Medwick or another Auror_—

Harry was both relieved and bothered to see the Minister of Magic. He was waving and wore a broad smile. He had dark, shaven hair with gray patches on the side. He had an amicable, handsome face that could easily become stern. After Amelia Bones' murder last year by a broken, vengeful Death Eater (who was later caught and killed), Henry Roberts had been named the new Minister. He was one of the youngest in history, being only 49 years old, and had been the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

He was doing a well job of being in charge, it was simply that he had developed a liking for Harry, as strong as Fudge's had once been. And this bothered Harry. _Bones hadn't been like this_.

"Hello, Minister," Harry mechanically greeted.

"How are you, how are you," Roberts enthusiastically hailed, shaking his hand, "Ms. Granger." He bowed.

"Hello Minister Roberts," she replied.

"Done for the day, are you?"

"Er, yes." Harry lied.

"Superb! Do you have time for a chat in my office? Tea and biscuits?" The former Gryffindor grimaced on the inside. Yes, he had time. No, he possessed no desire.

"Actually, sir, I… have prior—urgent—matters I have to take care of," he carefully explained.

"Ah," the older wizard said, face falling ever so slightly, "Well, of course. Next time, then."

"Yes."

"See you Sunday!"

"Goodbye, sir." Roberts bowed once more to Hermione and then went on his way.

"It's a bit scary, actually," Harry murmured to her, "He knows what days I work."

Hermione plopped down on the couch in the living room and removed her shoes, sighing contently. They were back at their flat, and looking at an hour and a half before the dinner date. In reality, it was _Harry's _apartment. He paid the rent every month and his name was on the contract, not to mention the fact that Hermione had her own place some 20 minutes away. However, seeing as how she rarely spent time there, she essentially lived with Harry. There were two bedrooms, but one was a spare; Hermione stayed in his room. She had minimal furniture (Harry had enough for the both of them), and if she needed more clothes she'd merely zip over to her apartment.

In the main, Hermione had keepsakes and personal items in their flat. She did _all _of the shopping for them (Harry would come back with pure junk food; she knew from experience), half of the cooking (years with the Dursleys had benefited him in that sense), and _loved _his compact study. It was there she did work when not at work. Harry paid half of Hermione's rent and persisted that she keep the flat, even though she had objections for both.

"I want to help you pay, so I will. And where are you going to go when I drive you mad?" he had stated. He was simply proving his consideration, however, in knowing she did, occasionally, need her own space.

"What do you want to do now?" Hermione called, taking off her robes. She waited for a reply, and when it didn't come:

"Harry?" She looked into the hearth and waited again. They hadn't used it since the last week of February—March had begun last week.

"Harry." Hermione said, now getting up. Where was he? The kitchen and dining room were empty, so he had to be in the back.

"Harry," Hermione walked down the corridor, "What do you want to do?" Was he in the study? One look told her no. Their room, then. Was he tired? If so, she could read while he slept…. She liked that idea.

She pushed the door open and walked inside the room. The only real reason it was tidy was because of her touch. Otherwise, it would have been just as messy as Ron's own room. (His flat stayed clean, for the most part, all because of his mother and girlfriend. He refused, however, to let them touch his room). Hermione frowned at the deep blue and golden bedspread, immaculately made. Where was he?

"Har--," she commenced, turning on her heel, "Oh!" Harry stood in front of her, hands behind his back.

"Goodness! You came out of nowhere! Don't, _do_, that!"

"Sorry," he smiled. His right hand, wand in tow, twitched: the door closed. She looked at it, and then him.

"I know what I want to do," he slyly remarked. Before she could respond, Harry had her firmly in his arms once more and was kissing her fervently.

His hands went to her waist and began pushing her shirt up. In no time, it was at her neck. Harry slipped it over her head and carelessly tossed it aside, keeping his onslaught of kisses coming. Moving agilely, he let go of her momentarily in order to take off his black robes. He got right back into it, kissing her greedily. This go round his hands found themselves on her back, there only torelieveher of herbra.

Hermione knew what Harry wanted to do, and had no objections.

* * *

A/N: First chapter, down. Ha. The second one will be up next week and will give all the background of what happened after Harry left the Great Hall with Dumbledore, to what they do now, and what happened to other wizards Harry knew/knows. It talks about their jobs, all three, what they do, and how they got them. I didn't precisely give Harry's occupation, but you can figure it out. I didn't say his age either, but if it's March, and Ron's 20, that means Harry is… 19. Yes. He's (only) 19 in this fic.

Let's see… oh, Ron is going out with Luna. Once again, I didn't come out and say it, but I hinted heavily at it. Erm… what will come later in the story, and soon? Talk of everyone else, including the Weasleys, Draco Malfoy, old school friends and who have you.Yes, yes, I have a lot to cover and can't wait! Oh, and maybe this isn't so important, but I have to say it. I don't really believe that Harry will live at the end of the seventh book. Honestly, I don't. But I wanted to write about his life after Hogwarts if he does live, so there you have it. Okay, I need to go eat lunch because I'm starving.


	2. Ancient History

A/N: Thank you to my eight reviewers! I was glad to have your critiques. I really am glad to get this story up. Of course, I say this now, at the very beginning. Just watch—in about 5 chapters, I'll be dragging my feet to write it. Lol. I can be such a procrastinating, lazy bastard :D

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 2**

Initially, life after Voldemort was difficult, and a bit awkward at times. Some things were out of place, new and trying, for many people, but especially for Harry. For Ron and Hermione, this stage began the moment Harry and Albus Dumbledore left the Great Hall to help the fight against the Dark Lord.

They made it through the side chamber shortly before it sealed itself shut, and proceeded to the school's safe havens. Ron had to practically help Hermione walk because she was in no true position to focus on this small function, so distraught she was from Harry's leaving them. When they finally reached the havens, for there were two and they resembled common rooms, relief washed through many to see their (miserable) faces, staff and students alike. By chance, they had picked the haven that held their friends, and they instantly surrounded the Head Girl and ex-prefect.

Frantic questions were thrown at them as to what had happened to Harry. Hermione, seemingly oblivious to all around her, sank down onto a sofa while Ron shakily told them about Harry's going to fight Voldemort. He quieted after that and sat next to Hermione. She latched on to him after a few minutes of sitting as still as a statue, and cried. Ron merely held her, knowing why she was so deeply distressed: there was an enormous possibility that Harry would not survive the ordeal.

The two were left alone to mourn by and large, with the only other person whose presence they tolerated being Ginny. She whispered words of comfort to Hermione while shedding her own silent tears. Hours crept by. Both safe havens were virtually mute as they all waited for a sign to let them know what was occurring on Hogwarts' grounds, or for the messenger the headmaster had spoken of. Dumbledore's assurance that the havens were sound proof proved true, but to Hermione it was more unbearable than being _able _to hear the noise. They had utterly no _idea _what was happening and that was terrifying.

Finally, after what felt like a decade since taking refuge, one of the portraits in the room stirred. He quickly fled his frame and five minutes later, came back in a frenzy. He spoke hurriedly to Filch and Professor Sprout and then ran off again. Filch hobbled off rapidly for the heavy steel door; Sprout approached Ron and Hermione. She had fallen asleep against him, and he roused her gently but hastily.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley—come with me," she rushed to say.

They did not stay to see what was happening with the rest of the students, but knew the other half of the school was coming into their haven and would be addressed. Once in the actual castle again, they noticed two things: it was the late afternoon, and not a bird in the sky was singing. There appeared to be no sound whatsoever. Grimacing, Ron took Hermione's as they followed the Herbology professor to wherever they were headed, not daring to say a word.

It turned out their destination was the hospital wing. What was more, it was the fullest it had ever been. Wizards, all injured, were in beds, standing, sitting, conscious, and unconscious.

"What?..." the Head Girl started. And then she saw the person in the bed closest to the window: Harry. Her hands flew to her mouth and Ron blanched. Their best friend looked ghastly—looked _dead_. He had no hue to his skin and was covered in gashes, cuts, bruises, scratches, and blood.

"Harry!" gasped Hermione.

"He is alive," a quiet voice told them. Dumbledore came into their field of view as Madame Pomfrey bustled up to Harry, with tears in her eyes, to tend to him. Their headmaster hardly looked better than their friend, but to add to it he appeared old—immensely old.

"Is… what-what… about…" Ron stuttered, staring at the dark haired young man.

"Voldemort is gone," Dumbledore revealed, "He and his army did not breach the castle in any way, but the school's grounds are a virtual, ruined battlefield."

"What about Harry?" demanded Hermione, crying angrily.

"We are preparing to send him to St. Mungo's, along with everyone else who is bedridden."

"We want to go as well." Ron suddenly answered. She nodded vigorously. The old wizard told them they could not, and when they began to protest, he explained that it would have to wait a night. They could leave first thing in the morning, but would have to spend that night getting ready.

After they reluctantly agreed, Dumbledore told them a little about the battle. He spoke of Kingsley Shacklebolt's carrying an unconscious Harry into the castle before passing out himself, but gave no great detail for anything he talked about. Perhaps he would leave that to Harry…. Before leaving the hospital wing and going to the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione made sure to inquire about all of their loved ones in the Order. All were alive; maybe severely hurt, but alive.

And so Ron and Hermione left Hogwarts the following morning, thus ending their seventh and final year in a premature, sudden fashion. In fact, the entire school year was finishing early; the other pupils were to be sent home the succeeding day and without having any year-end exams, including NEWTs.

They went straight to St. Mungo's only to find a whole wing devoted to the wizards whom had fought in the assault on Hogwarts. Many were only there for one day, or speedy treatments, but there were the more serious cases. Bill Weasley, whom had been there to greet them and who had gotten his remedies the previous day, informed them Dumbledore would be present later in the day. (The oldest Weasley child had an ugly conspicuous scar above his left eye and looked slightly discolored). He also explained that most every wizarding communication outlet on Earth was outside the hospital, dying to get in. Dumbledore had given specific orders to keep them out until he had an opportunity to speak to them.

Harry had his own, personal closed off section in the ward he was staying in, along with the other serious victims in the battle. When they arrived, Arthur, Molly, Fred and George Weasley were there. Mrs. Weasley burst into fresh tears and hugged them both viciously, blubbering indistinctly. Arthur, like Bill, had already undergone his treatment, but bore some testimony that he had been in the fight: his left arm was in a sling.

"The Healers say it's fine, I just need to let it rest," he commented.

Harry was not awake, and apparently hadn't been since he had been brought to the hospital; this did nothing to ease Hermione's strife. For once, the twins weren't smiling. Not much was said as the seven of them stood or sat by Harry's side, fearfully watching his blank face for any movement. Ron and Hermione vowed to stay the night with Harry, and no one protested.

Remus Lupin came to visit about an hour after Hermione and Ron's arrival. He came with his own battle wounds: a slight limp in his right leg. He explained that he had been held at the hospital overnight the previous day. When Hermione asked if his leg was permanently damaged, he said no.

"I'll be walking normally again in a few weeks."

Arthur wanted to know if the precise number of causalities for both sides was yet known, and Lupin solemnly told him Dumbledore was bringing that information with him later. He also let Ron and Hermione know that Tonks was in the same wing as Harry, them; they wanted to see her.

Nymphadora Tonks was conscious when they approached her bedside. In fact, she seemed highly annoyed.

"There is nothing wrong with me," she insisted to the teenagers, having just gone through a nasty coughing fit, "I'm fine, but no one believes me. Not even Remus."

"You're in this wing for a reason, Nymphadora. You have a considerable condition," the old professor told her patiently.

"I know I do. It's that the Healers here are _considerably _delusional about my health!" Ron and Hermione smiled lightly.  
"She's actually the most fit patient in the ward, the least grave. But even so…" Lupin commented quietly.

"How's Harry?" Tonks inquired. Hermione looked away quickly, hugging herself, and Ron put a hand on her shoulder.

"The same," the Marauder dismally reported. Ron and Hermione visited all of the others in the ward, sadly noting their various trauma. (Dedalus Diggle had ¾ of his face wrapped in bandages and seemed absolutely bored).

Dumbledore came to St. Mungo's a little before four o'clock in the afternoon. He called all of the remaining Order in assemblance in Harry's wing, so the ones restricted to beds could hear as well. (Kingsley, Elphias Doge, Charlie Weasley and Minerva McGonagall were some of the wizards who came). Hogwarts' headmaster granted Ron, Fred, George and Hermione permission to stay and gave his testimony.

After speaking of his gratitude, their bravery, Harry and the triumphant outcome, he got on to the casualty list. Both sides had lost, but the Dark Side had lost more than human lives; goblins, trolls, and giants had died as well. Dumbledore revealed that Voldemort himself, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, Walden Macnair, Crabbe Sr., and Antonin Dolohov had all perished (Peter murdered by his own kind for wanting to back out). Remus wore a tight expression upon hearing this. He was _now _the actual last living Marauder.

Dumbledore then, sadly, named their losses: a handful of Law Enforcement Wizards, Alastor Moody, Sarai Higgins, Emmeline Vance, and Severus Snape. It was a horrible shock for them all. Moody, Snape—_gone_? Ron's face portrayed everything Hermione was thinking. Had they ever expected Snape to… _die_? The old wizard spoke with the Weasleys, Hermione and Remus before leaving to inform the press of Voldemort's fate, and looked guiltily at Harry before exiting.

The brunette and redhead kept to their word and sent the night at St. Mungo's right by Harry's side. A kind Healer conjured them cots to sleep on. They woke early the following morning and waited, continuing to watch their best friend. Molly and Remus showed up again during the late morning, with copies of many papers all exuberantly proclaiming the same topic: You-Know-Who's death. While the rest of the world began celebrations that day (that would last a good month), Ron and Hermione waited for the newly dubbed Boy Who _Prevailed_ to wake up. Ginny came rushing into the room some time after four with Arthur, all a fluster. She had tears in her eyes and blabbered everything Dumbledore had told the students, posing frantic questions about Harry. She quieted upon seeing him, and sat next to Hermione.

It was at five o'clock, when Hermione was losing hope and a Healer was looking him over, that Harry came around. His screwed up and he clenched his teeth. Everyone tensed, including the Healer. His head moved from side to side for a moment, and then he groaned.

"H-Harry," Hermione tentatively tried, rising to her feet, "Harry." Nothing happened at first, and then he suddenly opened his eyes. There was a silent gasp.

"Her… mione? R-Ron?" It came out in a hoarse whisper, but Harry had spoken. As Mrs. Weasley cried joyfully, Ron laughed weakly, shaking, and Lupin smiled, putting a hadn over his face, Hermione could not remember feeling so alleviated and lightheaded.

Dumbledore was notified, and he suggested Harry have no other visitors until the next day. It was valid; he was still weak and didn't speak much. Hermione and Ron wanted to stay the night once more, even demanded it. For the second day they received their wish, and Harry was grateful. The other four left at ten o'clock and promised to come back the succeeding day. The three best friends stayed up for another hour, trying to vocalize their gladness, until the Healer insisted they sleep, emphasizing Harry's feeble state.

Harry's visitors started to come early in the morning. It began with _all_ of the Weasleys and Remus. (He was still sleeping so they had to wait a bit). An hour after their presence, Dumbledore, Shacklebolt, McGonagall, and Flitwick made theirs known. Tonks even left her own bed to talk to him face to face.

"One more night, and I should be able to leave!" she noted, stifling a cough. It was crowded in Harry's area, but he was so pleased to have all of them present. A little after eleven o'clock, a harassed young Healer came to the wing with news.

"There is an alarming number of people wanting, no, _bursting_, to see Mr. Potter. _Many _of them have cameras, quills, and parchment." All of Harry's callers began to protest, but Dumbledore handled the situation.

"The media will not be able to speak with Harry under any circumstance while he is here—it is too stressful," he explained, "Once he is released, however, it is entirely up to him."

"I still won't want to." Harry rancorously replied.

"I did not think so, Harry," the old man smiled, "However, the Ministry _will—_"

"Only them, then," he muttered, "And only after I leave."

Dumbledore, Arthur and Kingsley went to rid of the press. Around one o'clock, after Harry had eaten lunch, the group began to disperse with promises of future visits. The headmaster requested to speak with the boy alone and a few of his kin had small reservations, but dutifully left the two to their discussion.

"So, when… when are, we, going to bring up… you know?" Ron asked Hermione as he, his sister, and she sat at a quaint table in the tearoom.

"I don't know…," she nervously answered, rubbing her arm, "Whenever he's ready."

"Knowing Harry, it'll be when someone drags it out of him." Ginny commented. Hermione silently agreed.

"Well, I have… need to talk about… was wrong," he mumbled, not making eye contact. The girls looked at one another and frowned.

Dumbledore departed after his talk with the Boy Who Prevailed. The ones who remained were Remus, Molly, Fred, George, Ginny, and, of course, Ron & Hermione. They desired to stay yet another night, but were denied.

"Now, really," Molly lectured, "You need a decent bed to sleep in and proper food to eat. And Hermione, darling, your poor parents are probably _dying _of worry! You must see them! Harry, dear, that doesn't mean we'll abandon you. I'll send Arthur and Ron back with a respectable plate of food, and he'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning with Hermione."

This plan seemed to appease them well enough. They all left at six o'clock (keeping the promise of bringing him food later), and the redhead and brunette returned at 7:30 the next day. They told Harry that most everyone was working once more, but would come to see him for some amount of time. (Molly and Ginny would come around at lunch to stay the remainder of the day). Harry asked Hermione what her parents had said.

"They _were _frantic, there's no denying that," she professed, "But Professor Dumbledore talked to them the night they brought you here, so they at least knew where I was. They asked a lot of questions, half of which I couldn't answer, but they understand that I'm not… I'm not, leaving you, until you're better." A slight blush had come to her cheeks.

"Yeah. I'll be at home only to sleep," added Ron, "However long you need us for, mate."

"Thanks." Harry said, fully appreciating his friends' loyalty. Consequently, he couldn't stop mulling over Hermione's remark about not being able to answer her parents' questions; this was because his best friends didn't know all of the details regarding the battle, or his part in it.

Harry knew he had to tell them— he felt he owed it to them. (Dumbledore's conversation with him the previous day, indeed about the battle and causalities, also pushed him). And Ron and Hermione certainly hadn't forgotten about it, so they spent an awkward hour and a half striving to avoid the subject when it so adamantly pounded their minds. He finally came undone at ten, and began to pour forth the tale. Hermione and Ron listened intently, not daring to move a muscle.

It had been bloody and brutal, with both sides receiving equal damage. Wizards had been trampled on by giants, beaten into pulp by trolls, and the body parts of dark creatures had strewn the grass. It was a frightening massacre, but Harry had a purpose he had to focus on: finding Voldemort. Dumbledore was at his side, fighting (and defeating) anything that came for Harry, or himself. It wasn't until a band of six Death Eaters descended that the headmaster and pupil separated, the old wizard dueling gallantly. He told Harry to continue on, and the Gryffindor had to consent. Harry saw two professors, two Order members, and two Ministry workers rush to help Dumbledore as he hurried away.

He saw Voldemort before he realized what, or whom, he was staring at. The Dark Lord had apparently not seen his arch nemesis, and was fighting an Auror. The boy simply gazed stupidly at the scene, wand hanging limply. There was his destiny… his _fate_. Harry was never so convinced of death than at that moment. A spell flew terribly close to his left ear, jolting him. A Death Eater, grinning wickedly, closed in on him. As he prepared to defend himself, a green light shot from behind Harry and struck the Death Eater. The boy turned, only to see Voldemort slowly lowering his wand and staring at him. (His Auror was on the ground, lifeless). Harry knew why he had done that: Voldemort had him marked as his, and would let no one steal his glory of killing him. Not one word was spoken between the two as Tom Riddle drew nearer.

"It was like there was no need. After so many years of being linked to each other, we just… knew," Harry murmured, staring straight ahead. He told them of his last grapple with Voldemort, "I was losing, badly. It was sad how much he had me by, and the whole time he had this sick smile on, and look in his eyes. I just remember being on the ground, wanting to _die_ so much. He was playing with me. All of the things I had learned seemed to be completely gone from my memory. My body ached and my blood was everywhere. He could've offed me then, but I think he enjoyed watching me—liked savoring my pain. After the Cruciatus Curse, at which I couldn't even find the strength to scream, he was finally ready to kill me.

He raised his wand, and said, 'Goodbye, Harry Potter', and that was it. Suddenly, I felt this enormous surge of… _hate _as I looked at his ugly face. Unimaginable… hate, for _everything _he had done, to everyone. I don't even know if hate is a strong enough word. But, next thing I know, I'm lifting my wand, a-and I say this spell I've never heard of before in my life. I don't know if I could even repeat it now. I just…"

"What'd it do?" Ron questioned in a hushed voice, when Harry trailed off.

"It k-killed him. There was this bright flash of purely white light, he… _screamed_, a-and when it faded, there was a small crater where he had been. I stared at it for what seemed like ever before my head began spinning and I passed out. When I woke up, I was in St. Mungo's."

Hermione couldn't contain herself and threw herself on Harry, sobbing. She knew she shouldn't have, but no Healer in the world was going to part them. Ron watched the two with solemn eyes, appearing to be battling something within himself. Upon seeing that he persisted to keep the same countenance after their brief interlude, Harry inquired, fearfully, as to his problem. Was he still uneasy with watching the two of them?

"Harry, Hermione—I have to apologize," Ron started, dolefully, "How I've been acting towards you, since March… it's, I—I-'ve been a right prick!"

The redhead went on to ask their forgiveness for his attitude regarding their relationship. He explained his emotions at the time, but now confessed he had taken it all to the extreme.

"I was upset, but thinking about how I treated you two… I, maybe _I_ betrayed you, b-by not letting you explain. I just feel so _stupid_ now," he said, staring hard at the side of Harry's bed, "And, Harry—I-I blamed you for something that wasn't even your fault. I was convinced you stole H-Hermione, but I blamed you for what I didn't have: her feelings in return. I acted like a possessive prat." Ron's head had then gone into his hands shamefully.

"Don't, Ron. Don't apologize. We weren't right either. Forget it—it's in the past." Harry remarked as Hermione, with tears brimming her eyes, went to console her other best friend. With these two newly formed bridges built, the trio's mood lightened considerably. It was as though the beginning of a completely fresh start was commencing. To make their late morning even more pleasant, all of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's roommates from Hogwarts came to visit, along with a handful of DA members.

The rest of Harry's stay at St. Mungo's was amiable enough. His health progressed nicely, and he had, at least, six people come every single day: Dumbledore, Hermione, Ginny, Remus, Ron and Molly. (Tonks, indeed, had gotten out the day his Hogwarts friends had come and made sure to return to spend time with him). Harry gladly left the hospital after a week of staying within its walls, but not before saying goodbye to the other wizards with whom he had shared the ward, including Hestia Jones and Simon Priggs.

"Your things are at the Burrow, Harry. Dumbledore had them sent there." Ron revealed. He nodded.

"Let's go there first, then," he suggested, holding Hermione's hand, "If it's all right with your mum and dad, I want to stay the night."

"Mum will skin you if you _don't_."

"Tomorrow… tomorrow, I want to go to Number Four, Privet Drive," There was stunned silence. The Dursleys', "Then I need to take a trip to the Ministry."

"Harry, what…" Hermione started.

"I just need to take care of, and end, certain things before I settle into Grimmauld Place for the summer." A summer that held more potential and hope than any other one he had ever experience in his life.

* * *

A/N: Right. So this chapter was longer than I expected it to be. I thought I could get all of the background info in one chapter, but that didn't happen. Thus, I split it up. Chapter 3 will also have more back story, but I don't know if it will comprise the entire thing. No worries though—chapter 4 is definitely getting back to the actual plot.

In this story, all of the Weasleys survived the war. In actuality, I don't think all nine will. But that's just me. I also killed Snape, even though I love him, 'cause I do believe he's gonna snuff it in the seventh book. Call me pessimistic if you will, and I shan't be mad, 'cause I am pessimistic :D

I also don't know how I feel about the whole Remus, Tonks deal. It was unexpected and odd when reading it in HBP, so their relationship is uncertain in my story. Thanks for reading today! Next chapter will be posted next week.


	3. Living For Oneself

A/N: Erm… nothing to say really, in this author's note. Oh! Merci to my four reviewers. (One must always remember to thank the readers). That said, here's chapter three.

Wait, before I get to that, I just noticed I don't have a disclaimer for this story. Whoops!

Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters, locations, or anything else; it all belongs to JK Rowling.

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 3**

The trio spent the night at the Weasley home as Harry wanted, but the next day he traveled to his destinations by himself. He had made a plea to Hermione & Ron to let him go to the Dursleys' alone, and did so in the Ministry's case as well. They agreed, and Hermione revealed that she'd spend the day with her parents.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were nothing short of baffled to see Harry on their doorstep, for about the 1000th time. But there was something different about the dark haired boy they had grudgingly taken in, something… else. Did he give off an air of confidence? Resolution? Finality? Whatever it was, it rather unnerved the married couple. Vernon pondered—demanded—as to why Harry was back early, and rudely pointed out that Dudley not present.

"I'm just here to collect my things." Harry flatly answered.

"Collect?" Petunia wondered, brows drawn.

"Hang on—d'you mean—" his uncle quickly began.

"I'm leaving, permanently." The Boy Who Prevailed then made his way into the house that had tormented him for 16 years and up to his room. There was not much left to take, but when he did have everything, he walked out of the small room without a second glance. His aunt and uncle stood in the living room with odd expressions on their faces; she was unreadable, but he looked overjoyed.

"I doubt I'm ever coming back," Harry told them, "I have no reason to. Sorry I was such a burden. You know, by simply breathing."

"Where are you going?" Vernon asked chirpily, a broad grin on his face.

"To live with my _own _kind," he smartly responded, "You can tell Dudley I said goodbye." He turned on his heel and prepared to leave his fortress of abuse, but his aunt suddenly cried out:

"Wait!" Harry stopped. Petunia walked stiffly over to her nephew and gave him an inelegant hug. She did all of this without making eye contact; her husband was shocked.

"Well, go on, then," she snapped, putting space between them again. Harry studied her before nodding.

"Bye," he said. He then left Privet Drive.

When Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic, slight chaos erupted. Wizards began screaming his name and cheered as they all rushed to bombard him. Thankfully this did not last too long; Albus Dumbledore came along with Amelia Bones and rescued him. They went to Bones' office where they were secluded, and began their discussion of Voldemort. Dumbledore had related much to the Minister, so Harry did not have to say as much as he had thought.

When they were finished, there was no denying Bones' happiness. She, like everyone else, was allowed to feel safe and uplifted again now that Voldemort was dead, and reveled in that comfort. She thanked Harry profusely, exalting him for a moment, and then started to list what the Ministry was doing in order to show its gratitude. He would be receiving the Order of Merlin, First Class and 250,000 Galleons. When Bones brought up the possibility of his own Chocolate Frog card, Harry was horrified. However, it was when a sentence containing the words, 'a Harry Potter day' came out, that he put his foot down in a hurry.

"No, no," he insisted, shaking his head, "Absolutely not! No. That's just… crossing the line! NO. Never." He shuddered at the thought. A Harry Potter day…. Some things should never be suggested.

It was an adventure trying to leave the Ministry unnoticed, or in one piece. But Harry would rapidly come to learn that his fame had tripled in size and that his actions had caused a non-stop celebration in his world. When Harry was back at the Burrow, he told Ron and Ginny all about his meeting with Bones. (Hermione had yet to return from her outing). They replied they knew, and gave him a day old copy of the _Daily Prophet_. The main story featured Harry, was four pages long, and named all of the Ministry's gifts. In fact, many of the articles had Harry as the main focus and it made him uncomfortable.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed two more nights at the Burrow before going over to Grimmauld Place, much to protest from Mrs. Weasley. The house was indeed odd now; it was definitely more silent and less crowded. With the Order of the Phoenix being on prolonged hiatus, things seemed out of place. That wasn't to say that the manor was completely deserted, however. (Remus continued to live there and numerous wizards stopped by to visit). It was simply less active and full of people as it had been in previous days.

The three wizards who stayed at Grimmauld Place the most were Ron, Harry, and Remus. Hermione took up residence every other week. After her first night there, the Grangers made their daughter promise to spend at least half of the vacation at her original home, and so she consented. The boys went to the Burrow frequently and Ginny would travel to Sirius' old abode when Hermione was present.

Although Harry and Hermione had been together for almost two weeks after his fight with Voldemort, they had not been alone or really had the opportunity to. On their first night at Grimmauld Place, they decided it had been long enough and chose to rectify it. As she had done in their last few weeks at Hogwarts, Hermione crept up to Harry's room (after one o'clock) and slept in his bed. Their reunion had been overdue, and absolutely full of desire. She had been so jubilant and thankful with the fact that Harry was actually alive, and there with her, that she let him do practically anything he wanted. Despite what their emotions were telling them that heated night, both fell asleep with their virginity still intact, but Harry had been able to eagerly explore a bare-chested, lovely brunette.

The first task the trio focused on in its beginning days of freedom was its future. With Voldemort gone, _anything _and everything seemed attractive and possible to Harry. Indeed, he often times found himself in a mini-trance, trying to comprehend the fact that he was _liberated_, could now _live_. Ron was the first with an idea of what to do with himself: he told them he wanted to work in the Ministry.

"Well, the _department _is in the Ministry, anyway," he reported, "Magical Games and Sports… I want to work for the Chudley Cannons! Not be _on_ the team, mind you, just work for it. Then, one day, I'll hopefully be a manager!"

"Ron, that's great," Harry replied, "But, do you have any connections? I reckon it's hard to get a job with a professional Quidditch team."

"That's the thing—one of their supervisors knows Fred and George! Yeah! He's been in their shop a couple of times, was impressed, and they told him about me and how I've been a fan since I could walk. He, Ikenberry's his name, said he wouldn't mind speaking to me! So, I've got a meeting with him in two weeks." The other two were quite happy for their friend, but not so sure about themselves.

Harry was back to contemplating over an Auror or Quidditch career, and was noticeably pressed for time this go round; he had roughly two weeks. While he struggled over that, Hermione dove into doing heavy research on wizarding book businesses. Harry received information from the Quidditch League, and it appeared as if every team wanted him as a member. He seriously considered the two professions and reasons why to choose one over the other. Yes, he _loved _Quidditch and thought the idea of playing professionally was magnificent. He also contended that he deserved it, but gloomily noted it would bring _more _fame. There was the job of being an Auror… stopping dark wizards. But hadn't he just defeated the darkest of them all? And part of the reason Harry had originally wanted to be an Auror was to stop Voldemort….

But that didn't mean another couldn't rise, or try to pick up where Riddle had left off. That thought unnerved Harry. _Besides, I've wanted to be an Auror for much longer_. And so, he came to the conclusion that he would carry his goal out and be an Auror. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was positively ecstatic. He went with an appropriate application, but the (then) Head, Henry Roberts, told him it was useless—he was accepted on the spot. No doubt, Harry was surprised. When he asked about the training, he was told he did not have to go through with it. He knew why this was the case, and, vastly perturbed, insisted he have it. Just because he had gotten rid of Voldemort didn't mean he was perfectly fit to be an Auror; he _still _needed magical teaching.

With Ron and Harry secure with jobs (for Ron had snagged an opening position with his favorite Quidditch team), Hermione was the last to decide her future. It actually took her until the very end of July to find her niche, but the wait had been worth it. She had bitterly complained that no book companies encompassed the two worlds of Muggle and wizard together, and for this reason wizards were unaware, ignorant, and even hostile when it came to non-magical people. She claimed that she merely wanted people to learn, and perhaps even have tolerance.

"I should create my own shop," she commented one lunch.

Hermione basically did just that. A witch in the Department of International Magical Cooperation introduced her to an old, high-ranking, wealthy witch by the name of Gladys Tomain. Ms. Tomain had been an avid advocator in her younger years for _all _beings in the wizarding community, especially Muggles and Muggleborns. Hermione was honored to meet her, having of course known much about the pureblood, and poured forth her concept for a bookstore called Books, Bludgers & Batteries.

"It would have Muggle books, wizarding books, books about Muggles, books about wizards, and it could even serve as an agency for the rights of non-wizards!"

Tomain was so awed by the idea and the inventor that she agreed to do business with the young witch. She retired from her Ministry job and contributed the funds necessary to start the franchise (that would come to be pointedly successful). Hermione was so exhilarated, she appeared to be imperishably radiant. Everyone was terribly proud of her, but not precisely shocked—this was, after all, _Hermione_.

About the same time as the three were figuring out their careers, they went to the Ministry in order to get their Apparation licenses. It took about a month of intense practice, but they all were capable of Apparating by the onset of August. The Ministry had wanted to just hand Harry his license, but it even saw the necessity for proper education. (They couldn't have the Boy Who Prevailed splinch himself).

Harry, cheerful that Ron was his best friend once more, brought up the topic of sharing a flat in the middle of July, though rather timidly. Ron practically jumped out of his chair in his haste to say yes, and seemed to be mirthful for the remainder of the summer. (The two boys moved in a London, wizarding apartment five days before Harry's 18th birthday). His own place with his best friend… it was grand. All of Ron's brothers congratulated him on his path to maturity, but his mother was a different story. Molly was crushed to know her youngest son was leaving home, and that Ginny was the last child in the nest. The girl had, jokingly, observed she _could_ move out as well since she would be 17 in August; Molly had rapidly squashed that theory.

"Not as long as you've got another year at Hogwarts," she flatly noted.

As for the school, in the beginning, certainty of it reopening its doors had not been stable. However, Dumbledore assured that Hogwarts would be open on the first of September as always. The grounds, clearly, had to be tended to, and were, during all of August. Remus Lupin left Grimmauld Place shortly after Harry and Ron did. He found a nice cabin in the countryside in which to live, and so the former Black residence was devoid of habitants. (Harry promised to visit the werewolf once a week).

Harry found that it was perfectly invigorating in having his own home and being able to provide for himself. Being an Auror was going to be indubitably difficult, but he liked knowing he was doing something worthwhile, _could _do something worthwhile. Consequently, the only thing wrong with his new life was that once he stepped foot outside, he was prone to having his photo taken or finding an article centered on him in a periodical. Ron and Hermione received an insane amount of attention from the press as well, initially the same as Harry. Since Harry blatantly refused to speak, the reporters seemed to double their efforts in seeking out his best friends. They were desperate to know from Hermione how her relationship with Harry was going & how he treated her, and from Ron, how _he _felt about the relationship and how it affected him.

The press eventually ceased directly addressing Hermione and Ron, helped by threats from made from Harry, but it did not quit its pursuit of them; it was as if _anything _Harry came in contact with was priceless. It took some time, but the paparazzi slowly began leaving Hermione & Ron alone, and instead, reverted back to focusing mainly on Harry. What the former Seeker did _not _know, on the other hand, was how much attention other witches were giving Hermione, good, bad, and in between.

Many women berated her, saying she wasn't worthy of Harry Potter, the Dark Lord slayer, while others praised her for being there for Harry. Some females were frank, and asked rather personal questions about her relationship. Indeed, she remembered a certain conversation with her two co-workers Natalie Pellman and Talia Noi, whom, at that time, she had only known for two months.

"So," Natalie prompted as they sat in the lounge, eating lunch, "What is Harry Potter like in bed? Every witch is _dying _to know." Hermione had gagged on her drink as Talia giggled, smiling. She didn't know how to respond, or if she even wanted to. Hermione had felt horribly awkward because she was only 18 compared to Natalie's 23 (Talia was, then, 22), and, in essence, was rather like her boss. (She _was _the co-founder of Books, Bludgers & Batteries). By that time she and Harry had had sex, and multiple times, but that didn't mean she was ready to give the world details. Nevertheless, as Hermione glanced frantically at them, she felt as though she could trust the young women. They appeared sincere, and had proven themselves friendly.

"Um," Hermione said, playing with her loose hair, "Well, actually…," She looked at them, "He's amazing." Shrill, mirthful laughter then erupted accompanied by broad grins, and a friendship blossomed.

Hermione did not tell Harry about the recognition she received because she knew she could handle it, and it would only upset him more. Besides, it wasn't too dreadful. Originally the couple had been reluctant and cautious in displaying (open) affection, primarily for Ron's sake, but the two came to learn they had nothing to be weary of. Even so, they preferred to save their affection for when they were by themselves.

As for the trio's family and friends, they continued to play a major role in its life. The three alumni Gryffindors knew what they were up to and their doings, and even old classmates. For instance, Cho Chang worked for _Witch Weekly_ and had since leaving Hogwarts a year before Harry. (Hermione thought her job was oh so fitting). David Rice and Ernie Macmillan both worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, whereas Neville Longbottom was in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, although he was working under Professor Sprout doing Herbology research. (Conversely, Neville was continuing to date Hannah Abbott).

Seamus Finnigan, Department of Magical Transport, was still the boyfriend of Lavender Brown, Healer-in-training. Dean Thomas worked in the same department as Ron, Padma Patil concocted Potions for major buyers, and Parvati Patil worked for the Department of Mysteries. The trio had understandingly not had any contact with Draco Malfoy since leaving school, and had only heard rumors regarding him. Apparently the blonde had accepted his Quidditch League offer, but he was not really making himself known in any way. Harry suspected he was merely waiting for seven years to be up—the time in which exclusive Death Eaters could return to regular society.

The Ministry of Magic had, for some reason, decreed that the Death Eaters whom had escaped Azkaban the summer of Harry's 16th year, and who hadn't been in the attack against Hogwarts, might be able to come safely out of refuge in seven years, if they met certain guidelines. Since most _had _fought in the assault, and had either died or were thrown back in prison, that left two or three eligible. And because the most important guideline was that the Death Eater must have had a previously clean record, or done substantial work for the wizarding community, Harry knew Lucius Malfoy was be permitted to return. Whatever the government's reasons for passing the law, he thought it was purely ludicrous.

Mr. Weasley was completely outraged with this "absurd law that Malfoy _somehow _had passed just to favor him" as well, but had other things in his life to celebrate. Bill was married to Fleur Delacour, and Percy was married to his school girlfriend Penelope Clearwater. Fred was still seeing Angelina Johnson and Charlie jested that he'd better get a move on and make it Weasley marriage number three. (He had attested long ago that marriage was not appealing to him). Fred insisted he was too young, while Molly had other words.

"If that lovely girl knows what's good for her safety and sanity, she wouldn't _dream _of marrying Fred."

"And what is that supposed to mean!" the twin indignantly questioned as his family all laughed.

"That you're not exactly the… marrying type." Percy gingerly answered. He did not want to say what was really on his mind because his relationship with the twins was not yet fully repaired.

"Oh yeah? Well, she happens to think I'm very _funny_!"

"Sure, but most idiots are," grinned Ron. He had then spent the next week deflecting Fred's hexes and curses.

* * *

Harry and Hermione's defining moment came the night of Harry's 18th birthday, the night they lost their virginity to one another. They had made plans to do so their first night out of Hogwarts, but Harry had been unconscious in a hospital bed, so Hermione thought his birthday would be the best substitute.

She had been planning it about a week beforehand, and was incredibly nervous. She and Ron had coordinated a large party for him at Grimmauld Place and invited all of his wizarding kin; everyone showed up and it was very enjoyable. (She was adamant in Harry's friends not trying to sneak him alcohol, and managed to confiscate all they smuggled in). They were all much more exuberant than they could ever remember being, and it was probably simply because the person they were honoring had lived to see eighteen, and hopefully would see more years.

At midnight the party was over and most everyone had gone. Molly remained to clean up, and when Harry offered his assistance she shooed him away.

"Harry, it's your birthday dear! I know it's rather late, but if you're going to do anything else, go have fun," she replied. He knew for a fact that his school roommates and Fred & George were waiting for him in the kitchen so they could all Apparate to a pub and get him utterly drunk, but Hermione intercepted him on his way there.

After a short snog to show his appreciation for the party, they spoke.

"I want to give you your gift," she revealed. Memories of the previous Christmas surfaced in his mind.

"Yeah," he grinned, "Well, I suppose I can tell Ron I'll be about 15 minutes late to—"

"No, Harry," she interrupted, looking at him, "It… it should be longer than 15 minutes. I… I want tonight to be the night we…"

"Do it?" Harry finished, staring at her. Hermione nodded, beaming and blushing. He stared at her a little longer before kissing her, and whispering in her ear:

"Meet me at the flat." He prepared to Apparate and concluded that the pub could _wait._

Harry made sure that his door was stubbornly secure and that noise could not exit or enter his room. He did not know when Ron would return and did not want to know. Harry brought up the issue of protection and Hermione guaranteed she had already handled it. (She had taken a potion two days earlier that prevented pregnancy). With nothing else to worry about, the two became engulfed with each other.

As Harry now recalled their first night together, it elicited good memories, and how it had commenced made him laugh. At the time, however, he had been slightly ashamed. Hermione had guided Harry through many things during their period at Hogwarts, and she aided him that night as well (though he later proved he could perform well without her help).

"Right… right there," she breathed.

"Are you sure?" he inquired.

"Yes." Hermione confirmed, smiling and holding back a laugh. He was so unsure sometimes it was cute.

Harry pushed into her as carefully as he could without trying to convey his excitement and enthusiasm. She winced, eyes shut and biting her lip.

"Did I hurt you?" he quickly wondered.

"No, it's supposed to feel like that the first time," Hermione serenely told him, "Go on—move." Harry was frozen at this command, but after a couple of immobile moments he merely did what his bodily instincts were telling him, and began to move against her.

Hermione didn't respond immediately and still had her eyes closed, so he feared he wasn't doing something correctly. However, she started to rock her body underneath his in the same motion and started to bite her lip again. Somehow, though, it was different than before; was it a good sign? It wasn't until Hermione began to moan that Harry knew he was actually pleasing her and gained confidence.

After the bumpy beginning, Harry was in pure bliss. Sex felt _wonderfully_ and he realized why it was talked about so much. As they neared their climax, they found out why that was one its titles. Harry, panting, thrusted in and out of Hermione with a mounting fervor he didn't even know he possessed, and frenetically deduced that sex was the single best thing in life. (All of his thoughts were frenetic at that point). Hermione, long having ceased directing him, was distractedly noting how incredible Harry was in every way, when she wasn't making small noises of enjoyment (which was often). And then, it came: the rapture. Harry felt his entire body tremble as he let himself go inside of Hermione, and gave small shout. She, in turn, arched her back, dug her fingers in his back, and omitted an extremely loud gasp.

Afterwards, he was significantly drained of energy. Harry lay tired against Hermione with closed eyes as his physiological functions slowly went back to normal, and he drunkenly marveled over how fantastic that had been. She was much the same and held him, while slowly stroking his hair and striving to keep her eyes from fluttering shut. Hermione and Harry had undeniably reached a new point in their relationship that night, and in their feelings for each other.

Harry had been fairly worn out when they had finished, and had been zoning in and out of consciousness, so he couldn't be entirely sure of a certain statement even being made. But he was willing to admit that the part that had meant the most to him was when Hermione had, as she hovered dangerously on the brink of sleep also, pensively told him:

"I love you."

* * *

A/N: That's pretty much all the background information I'm dishing out, but I still have about a page more to write so it will start chapter 4 off. I'm getting antsy to get back to writing the actual story so it will not be that long. Promise.

I know Hermione was born in 1979 and so is older than Harry, but she's not in this story. Lol. I didn't find that out until HBP, and thought it was weird! So I don't like it and am not incorporating it with _my_ HP world.

I will definitely talk more about Draco, 'cause I love him, and he is even going to show up in the story. Yay Draco! I made Neville work in that department 'cause I think it's ironic; he's always the one having some sort of mishap and what not. And if you don't already know, I am a supporter of Fred and Angelina: hence, the penname AngelinaWeasley! I think they are muy cute together. Okay, next chapter next week. Orange socks and moldy newspapers!


	4. Miniature Muggles

A/N: Like always, thanks to my reviewers. You people keep me going.

Sorry I'm a day late posting this. I had French homework I had to take care of. Nothing like procrastination, eh!

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 4**

Harry's friends had the chance to drag him to a bar August first. Ron, Neville, Dean, Harry & Seamus went to a wizarding bar a little after seven o'clock, and the four of them demanded to know what had occurred the previous night. Harry told them, reddening but satisfied, of Hermione's "gift". (He didn't once look at Ron's face). Dean, Seamus, and Neville, overcome with roaring laughter, were rapturous and probed him immensely. Ron listened with arms crossed and a neutral face, but did not comment. It was apparent his friends approved and were proud.

After his eighteenth birthday, Harry and Hermione's sex life blossomed rapidly. Although they were (rather) young, Harry argued this worked in their favor.

"We're young—we need the practice," he rationalized to her.

When Harry and Ron ceased living together the summer Harry turned 19, the Boy Who Prevailed got his own apartment. (The boys ended their boarding with each other on mutual terms and realized individual flats sounded appealing. After all, they had been roommates for eight years). That September was around the time Hermione began staying with Harry, unofficially. At the start of their living together, the first two months, Harry and Hermione made love every single night. They were learning, but they had an undoubtedly _good _sexual relationship. As time wore on and the couple came to be better and more comfortable, their relationship improved even more. However, Hermione noticed that Harry _really _enjoyed sex. That, though, wasn't a problem; she merely observed their shags were always unplanned, spur of the moment, and he preferred to have at _least _one every day (if he could). She had very recently, at the end of February in fact, implemented a shagging rule: four times a week, maximum.

"You can't make up rules for _sex_!" Harry exasperatedly exclaimed, gawking at her.

"Yes you can, and I did." Hermione answered, kissing him.

"But that ruins _the point_! And only four times? It's not enough—I'll die!"

"We've shagged enough since September to last a lifetime, even a wizarding one!"

"Hermione," he seriously began, "There is no such thing as shagging too much."

However, despite all of Harry's good fortunes, not_ all _things went well after Voldemort's fall. Indeed, one of the most awful events in his life happened in late October (of his 18th year). Albus Dumbledore announced his resignation from his position as Hogwarts' headmaster on August 30th, which unhinged everyone. (A sad Minerva McGonagall took his place). Consequently, it was his death that shook Harry and virtually every other wizard who knew of him. There was no big scandal surrounding Dumbledore's death; he simply died in his bed while sleeping soundly. His funeral was held at Hogwarts and was attended by _hundreds _of people. Harry sat in the front row along with the Weasleys, McGonagall, Hermione, Remus, and a few others. It was a moving service and demanded tears from many faces; Harry found a couple had escaped from his own. It seemed as though the last of the war had been taken and, oddly enough, a sense of completeness had made itself known.

Another of Harry's mentors had left him, and quite possibly the most important. Plenty of tributes for Dumbledore were devised, including a whole section on him in Books, Bludgers & Batteries. A wizarding legend had died, but his legacy never would.

* * *

The trio's dinner date on Friday had gone exceptionally well. Ron noticed that his two friends were glowing upon arrival, wondered why, and then quickly dismissed the thought, having come up with a (likely) answered. (He found that the only way to keep his sanity was to believe that it was physically impossible for Harry and Hermione to have sex, end of story). Hermione was pleased with Ron's overall good behavior; the only small blunder came when they were leaving and he started to speak loudly, telling a joke about house elves and hippogriffs. 

Harry and Hermione both had Saturday off. She wanted to just spend a nice day at home, getting minimal work done in the study and cuddling with her boyfriend. He, on the other hand, was deadly persistent about going to a Quidditch match. Ron and Dean had gotten ten tickets for the Falmouth Falcons, Bigonville Bombers game, and two were meant for Harry & Hermione. The other six were intended for Ginny, Luna, Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, and Neville. She went, a tad resentfully, and spent a lot of the time talking to her former roommates. (The males, Luna, and Ginny were bluntly keen on the game). The couple got home slightly late that night and let movies play on the television while they made out heavily on the sofa.

Unfortunately, Sunday meant work again. Hermione went to her bookstore happily, whereas Harry trudged to the Ministry wearily.

_How pitiful is this? I'm only 19 and I already hate my job_, he thought bitterly as he lazily flicked completed parchment in his OUT box. Being an Auror wasn't exactly as he had imagined it. There was a lot less fighting in the field and a lot more sitting at your desk, filling out papers. Maybe because Voldemort was gone, it was noticeably less exciting….

He continued to shift the parchment, slumping in a way, when a recognizable voice floated in his space.

"Wotcher, Harry." He looked up to see Tonks standing in his doorway, a Tonks with short, curly brown hair. She was still an Auror, but had climbed her way up the ladder; she was supervisor of a set group of younger Aurors, Harry not being one of them.

"Hi Tonks," he responded.

"You look absolutely excited," she smiled.

"Always am." Harry half-grinned.

"At least you're almost done."

"Yeah. It took me two _weeks _to finish!"

"Those are only some of the perks of being in this department," Tonks noted, "I'll let you finish before Medwick comes along and screams at the both of us for, heaven forbid, talking."

"Bye Tonks," he bid, smiling.

"Cheers, Harry." The witch then left. There was no doubt that Joseph Medwick would have punished them if he had caught them "dilly dallying".

Medwick was an interesting wizard. He was an older man, expected prompt, precise, perfect work from his employees, and gave new meaning to the word strict. He was the Head Auror and _abhorred _excuses. Harry would have anticipated disliking him but, strangely enough, he _did _like Medwick. Harry highly respected his boss for some reason, but knew a part of it was that Medwick didn't give a damn that Harry was Harry Potter. He treated him no differently than any other person he came in contact with, and it was refreshing.

The Boy Who Prevailed was daydreaming about chasing a Snitch, something that increased with every passing day, when he heard someone say:

"Psst!" Harry looked up and saw Dean standing enigmatically next to his door.

"Dean," He walked inside quickly and shut the door, "What's up?"

"I'm not supposed to be down here, exactly. But Ron was really busy and he wanted you to have it. So, _I _volunteered to risk my job by slipping away and delivering it." Dean explained. His friend stared at him.  
"Bored, were you?" Harry wondered.

"A little," he smiled, "But if your Head sees me, I _will _be in for it. He's mental!"

"That's Medwick," confirmed Harry.

"New _Quibbler _issue. Here." Dean tossed a copy on his desk. As usual, Luna Lovegood's influence on the magazine was lucid. She was an editor for the publication and would take her father's position in a few years. Ron constantly received _The Quibbler _before the public did, and in turn his friends did as well.

"Thanks." Harry said, dragging it closer.

"Riley sends his greetings," Dean smiled, "You know he still wants you for Quidditch, right?"

"Of course. He _never _fails to talk to me when I'm up there... or anywhere else in the Ministry…"

"Ah, he's just convinced he'll get you to give up the life of an Auror for a Quidditch team." Harry did not answer. Bert Riley, whom he had met in his last year at Hogwarts, was a scout for the League and favored Harry immeasurably. He was one of the most enthusiastic people Harry had ever met.

"Yeah, well…" he mumbled.

"Everyone knows you should be playing, mate. Why don't you?" Dean remarked. Once more, Harry kept quiet. Instead, he shrugged.

"So, how was your date with… Samantha?" Harry pondered, changing the subject. (He was done with his work).

"Oh, it was cool. She's fun. I'm gonna ask her out again for Tuesday." Samantha Nickson was a half-blood witch Dean had met in Diagon Alley. She was a petite, pretty, black 20-year-old and they had been on two dates. He had not had an actual girlfriend since his break-up with Bethany King a year ago.

"You should take her to a game." Harry commented, stretching.

"Yeah, I want to, but I'll hold off for a bit. I know she likes Quidditch, but I want to see just how much," he told him. There was a knock on the door.

"Erm… who is it?" Harry questioned.

"Terry," came the answer.

"Come in." Terry Boot walked in. He had been in their year at school, but in Ravenclaw. He had trained alongside Harry to become an Auror.

"Hey Harry, Dean," he acknowledged. Dean nodded, "Medwick sent these over, Harry. Well, they were actually ready for you yesterday but I think he forgot you weren't in." Terry dropped a massive stack of parchment on his desk.

"More reports," Harry exclaimed, "I just finished _those_! What's he on!"

"Sorry," shrugged Terry, "Later, then." He left the office.

"I oughta shove them up Medwick's arse." Harry growled, glaring at the pile. Dean laughed lightly.

"Well, _if _you're able to eat lunch, I'll be in Ron's office with Seamus. See you!" he remarked. He moved for the door, but as he was about to exit, Joseph Medwick appeared.

"M-Mr. Medwick! Sir!" Dean stammered, taken aback.

"What are you doing down here, Thomas?" the wizard demanded, leering at him. His long, dark gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

"Er, I… I was j-just reporting a suspicious wizard who n-needs to be watched. He, uh, has a past of fraternizing with dark wizards, and is a new hire in m-my department," the old Gryffindor lied.

"You know to file an inquiry with Laurent, then! Potter is _not _Laurent! Goodbye!" Medwick barked.

"Yes sir!" Dean said, all but running past him. Medwick turned to Harry.

"Get going with those new reports, Potter. Do not dilly dally! I'll take _these_." He waved his wand and the completed ones flew in his arms. Without another word Medwick left. Harry gritted his teeth and, with his wand, angrily slammed his office door.

* * *

Ron never did come to understand why Harry and Hermione kept a television and telephone in their apartment. He didn't comprehend that they were "useful Muggle inventions", and always looked past the fact that both of his best friends grew up in Muggle homes. They had a wizard wireless but a stereo as well, and this too confused him.

"The telly-phone is completely pointless." Ron bluntly pointed out.

"You only say that because you _still _cannot successfully use it." Hermione retorted.

"Why would I want to? All those numbers, strange voices coming from the other end… give me an owl _any _day." Even though Ron disagreed with their household appliances, that didn't stop him from avidly watching the "TB", or "tebby". _It_, at least, kept his interest.

"George told me that it was just miniature Muggles trapped in a box when I was seven," he relayed, eyes fixed on the tube.

Nevertheless, the main reason Harry and Hermione had a phone was for her parents. The Grangers kept in contact with their daughter very often, and she had given them Harry's number because that is where she stayed. To ensure Harry never answered the phone when they called, and thus start an avalanche of trouble, it glowed blue when they were the ones on the other line. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had no idea their daughter was living with her boyfriend; they thought she was actually dwelling in her _own _flat. Hermione felt badly about deceiving them, but she knew they would explode with disapproval either way.

Hermione had been in the apartment for a little under five minutes when she saw a blue light near the kitchen. She had gotten home a few minutes ago, at five, and knew she'd be alone for awhile. (Harry continually got off work later than she). She let her hair down as she strolled over to the phone.

"Hello?" she questioned.

"Hello dear," came her mother's soothing voice.

"Hi mum."

"How are you?"

"Oh, I'm all right. I just got home." Hermione told her.

"How was work?" asked Emily.

"Great, like usual! I absolutely love my job."

"That's wonderful, dear. I think your father and I are ready for another visit to your shop," Hermione's parents had only been to Books, Bludgers & Batteries twice. Emily gave a small laugh, "I just love bragging to everyone that _my _little girl has her own business, and she's not even _20 _yet!"

"Mum…," she murmured, rolling her eyes, "I had help."

"Even so. We're all just so proud of you Hermione, for everything."

"I know. Granny practically cries every time I talk to her." The brunette grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and began eating it.

"Well, I have a question for you, dear." Emily stated.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think of having dinner here later in the week?"

"Of course, mum." Hermione said.

"Oh, but you _have _to bring Harry."

"Oh, yeah… right." The Grangers had socialized with Harry many times, and Emily just adored him. Samuel Granger, unfortunately, had the curse of every father with a girl has: finding it difficult to entirely like the boy she brings home. Mr. Granger was civil with Harry, but Harry continued to be unnerved by him.

"He hates me." Harry miserably concluded one night, after seeing a movie with them earlier in the afternoon.

"No he doesn't, Harry. Trust me, you'd know if he did. In fact, I think he's warming up to you! It's simply going to take a little more time," she assured.

"Sure, mum—sounds great," present day Hermione remarked.

"Good! I'll call you back on Tuesday," her mother said.

"Okay. Tell dad I love him."

"I will. Goodbye sweetheart."

"Bye mum." The Granger women hung up. Hermione hoped Harry was having a good day at work; the thought of facing Samuel Granger for two hours would not precisely make him smile.

Hermione was curled up on the couch with an 1800 page book and classical music pouring from the radio when Harry suddenly appeared by the front door. (It was 6:08).

"Harry," she said, looking up and smiling faintly.

"Today was bloody _fantastic_," he sarcastically reported, walking down the hall to their bedroom. Hermione grimaced softly. So, the good mood was a no go.

"And tomorrow, I won't get home until _nine _because I've got _four _hours of training after my shift ends," he continued when he came back, having changed out of his robes, "Aurors have to train for three years after they start! Just think, only two more to go!"

"I know Harry." Hermione coaxed, putting down the book and getting up. She went to the kitchen and he followed.

"I'm going to be so damn _sore_." Harry grumbled, planting himself next to the refrigerator.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving. I didn't get to eat lunch!"

"Here," Hermione had taken a plate of food out of the oven and handed it to him, "I've already eaten."

"Thank you," he sighed gratefully, kissing her cheek. He sat at the table and, this time, she followed.

"So, um…," commenced Hermione, carefully, "I talked to my mum earlier."

"Yeah."

"And, well, she wants dinner company later in the week—namely us." Harry looked at her. (A quarter of his meal had already vanished). He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

"It'd mean so much to her, Harry! And you know just she loves you!"

"Yes, but your dad can't stand me! I'll have to fidget under his eye for a whole evening," he commented.

"That's not true! You just have to _try _with my father! And the fact that you even bother to spend time with him impresses him, I know it!" she argued. Harry exhaled, looking at his food.

"Okay, Hermione, I'll go. I know what it means to you," he conceded. And if he was honest with himself, the Grangers _were _agreeable people. What was more, dinner was the least he could do. _I've _only_ corrupted their daughter, _he had thought numerous times, _she's lying to them about living with _me, _and I took her virginity when she was still 17!_

"Thank you," smiled Hermione. She stood up and kissed his lips, "I'm sorry about your awful day at work." She paused briefly, and then kissed him again.

"You taste like food." The Muggleborn left the dining room and went back to her reading. Harry watched her go, and then stared at his plate. He picked up his fork, ate three bites, then put it down again. He pushed back from his chair and stood up.

"Hermione, I know a way you can make me feel better…" Harry called to her.

Harry and Ron walked down a street in Diagon Alley. It was their lunch hour break and they were running an errand. Actually, _Ron _was running an errand, and it was for his mother. Harry had simply joined him on his tromp.

"I don't know _why _she had _me _do it," the youngest Weasley son complained.

"Stop gripping and be a good son." Harry grinned.

"Fred, George, _and _Bill all work in Diagon Alley! Why couldn't she ask one of them?"

"D'you think we have enough time to go and see them?"

"I dunno. We've got 45 minutes left, we still need to eat, and Fred & George love wasting people's time." Harry's plan to score a pity shag from Hermione the previous night did not go as planned. In short, it didn't happen. It had been the perfect way to end the perfect day. Harry had been very disgruntled as they laid in bed, and Hermione noted "You're trying to be angry, but it's funny and cute", as she laughed. Her giggles only made his mood worse, which sequentially only made her laugh _more_.

The two best friends walked into a general potion shop, where they sold liquids ranging from cleaning solutions to poisons.

"Mum needs three bottles of that one…stuff," Ron muttered, looking around, "Merlin, why couldn't she get _dad _to do it!" Harry shook his head and moved to help search for Molly's cleansing concoction.

"Whatever you need, Mr. Potter, it's free," someone shouted. He looked behind him. A stout wizard in an apron was grinning broadly, "Anything you're getting—no charge!" Harry offered a forced smile in recognition and resumed his walk. How was he supposed to get rid of his abundant money if no one would accept it? His landlord had even tried to let him live in the flat for _free_…

It took Ron about ten minutes to find what Mrs. Weasley needed. As Harry drew closer to him, from sauntering around the store, he asked him a question:

"Hey, Ron—what Quidditch team does Malfoy play for? I never really knew, or bothered to remember." (He had just seen a bottle of Broom Sheen, which apparently kept your broom gleaming for sixty days straight).

Ron was looking peculiarly at a small, extravagant bottle of an ice blue liquid in his right hand.

"Speaking of that prick…" the redhead mumbled.

"What?" Harry inquired.

"Er, Malfoy played for the Holyhead Harpies," he clarified, speaking louder and looking at him, "Not anymore. Quit, or something."

"Oh. Well, what are you looking at?"

"A poison called the Sixth Sense," Ron replied. Bells immediately began ringing in Harry's head, "Didn't you—"

"Make a potion with Malfoy called the Sixth Sense? Yes—I did! It was an assignment for Snape!" Harry declared. He recalled Draco Malfoy saying that he wanted to market the poison when they were 17 and still at Hogwarts, and he had told him he could do whatever he wanted with it. _And that includes drinking it_. Harry looked thoughtfully at the bottle. Well, it looked like he had gone and done it.

"Yep. Says right here on the back—that wanker's name," Ron pointed out, "Doesn't mention you, though."

"I don't care. I basically told him he could have it." Harry responded.

So, after months of absence, Malfoy had slipped his way back into Harry's life.

* * *

A/N: I had three things I had to say, or clear up, and I left them back in my room. (I wrote them down). I'm not going to get up and go get them, so it'll have to wait til next chapter.

Oh! Wait! Just remembered _two_! Heck yes! Whose awesome?

I don't know if JKR ever says how much older Tonks is than the trio. Wait, I lied again. I just saw, right now, on the web that she was born in 73. That's cool though, 'cause I was assuming she was about 7 or 8 eight years older. Yay me! I get two points. (Lol. I know I'm a dork). The other thing is that I don't know if English people say TV, so that's why I added the "tebby" for Ron. It's his equivalent to telly.

Okay, that's all.


	5. Talking Eyes

A/N: My apologies, my apologies! I _know _I haven't posted in about 76 years, but I have an excuse! (I still feel horribly about it, however). School and work have been kicking my derriere; I've been flooded with crap to do and haven't had time to sleep, let alone time to write. I do believe the torrent of crap has ended, for now, and so I have found time to actually get back to my story. I've missed it terribly. So again, I'm sorry. College really sucks. So does work.

Lemme see… oh, thanks to new reviewers, of course. I wanted to say to **call me brit**—their love scenes will be more intimate. In fact, there's one in this chapter! I just don't want to rush into anything. And it's also rated **M** for swearing, which will also come later. So no worries. All right, let's get started shall we, HP fanatics?

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 5**

Harry's prediction proved to come true. He was terribly sore and stiff when he returned to the flat on Monday night, but was even more put out to see that Hermione was not there. (He needed her for magical healing and plain comfort). Deciding that she was either at her own apartment or the bookstore, he fell back on the sofa and remained there, immobile, for 30 minutes. Harry was too exhausted to eat, and barely had enough strength to move from the couch to his bedroom. He took a bath (trying to ignore the feminine implications and focus on the fact that it soothed his muscles) and then went straight to bed. It hadn't even been ten o'clock yet, but Harry felt alone without Hermione there next to him.

Voldemort might have been dead, but he still found a way to torment the Boy Who Prevailed. Harry had had a clear head after defeating the Dark Lord, but about a month after doing so he began to have disturbing dreams about Tom Riddle. They continued to occasionally trouble Harry and he experienced one that night. Apparently his thrashing and groaning had been a more severe case, because a soft voice and two hands had awoken him.

Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione lying beside him, supporting herself on her arms. He looked at the digital alarm clock, blurrily, and saw that it was 12:37.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Uh, yeah…" he murmured.

"Another dream?"

"Yes." She didn't say anything else, but kissed him. He kissed her in return, glad she was home. He wondered when exactly she had gotten back and then quickly disregarded it. The point was she _had_—who cared? (Hermione had actually returned at 10:10 and gone to sleep an hour later). They didn't say another another word and went back to sleep, this time Harry knowing she was near at hand.

He awoke to the sensation of fingers running lethargically through his hair and sunlight beating against his eyelids. Memories of the previous day lingered in the back of his brain and he erased the last of them. Hermione was encircled in his loose arms and playing in his hair with shut eyes. Harry smiled.

"Hi," he said. A pretty smile lit her face.

"Morning," she answered.

"How long have you been up?"

"Less than ten minutes. Are you okay?"

"Of course." Hermione opened her eyes to see his green ones looking at her. She grinned and moved closer in order to kiss him. He immediately tightened his hold around her waist, anticipating a (happily accepted) morning snog.

They kissed one another slowly—teasingly. Hermione enjoyed catching Harry's bottom lip between her teeth and then playfully licking his tongue; she knew that it perturbed him somewhat, in a good-humored fashion. What she didn't fully know was that it turned him on with a speed that was alarming.

After she had done it a second time, and he had positioned himself on top of her, he pulled up from their enticing kissing game.

"Don't do that," Harry instructed, trying not to get himself worked up, "If you're not going to…"

"Going to what?" Hermione innocently wondered. She, no doubt, knew what he was insinuating and he could tell by the seductive tone of her voice—she fooled no one. This only further fueled his sex drive.

_It's been three days since we've last done it. Three _days, he thought heatedly.

"Hermione," commenced Harry, burying his face in her neck. (He had suppressed a groan), "Friday was the last time—Friday. Please." He had started placing impassioned kisses on her throat and was whispering in her ear.

"Please; I can't believe you'd reduce me to this. Please."

His hand had "slipped" (been craftily planted) between her legs and deliberately rode the slope of her curves, then removing her underwear. His fingers seemed to be warming her up, for she was responding by making small whimpers of pleasure. This technique was his reinforcer, in case she needed convincing, and elicited a great reaction from her when it had found its destination.

"_Harry!_" she gasped, clinging to him.

"Yes?" he hurriedly persisted, needing an answer. Hermione could feel him against her, ready to go. A flush crept on her cheeks and she suddenly wanted it as much as he did.

"Yes," she inhaled, nodding, already finding it difficult to breathe, "Yes!"

Harry entered her without further delay, groaning exultantly. He gripped her hips and began to work her, as she placed one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder. Hermione kept up with Harry for a good while, but eventually was lost to his increasing energy and let him lead.

As they approached the peak, her hands clutched at his back, digging into it. She had gone from moaning, to minor and major wailing, to no breath at all. Harry quickened his pace and gained more zeal, like often, and when he at last came, she called out his name.

They only rested for about two minutes before Hermione left the bed and went to take a shower, noting they had to be at work at eight. (It was a little past 7:30). He laid there for a few more minutes and then got up to go eat a quick breakfast. Harry was extremely content (now). He had a large grin on his face as he walked into the kitchen and began to hunt for food. He knew the one sure way of him having a terrific day _everyday_ was to have a morning shag. Like today— it was going to go well because he had had sex. The only problem came in the form of his lover; he knew there was no way on Earth that Hermione would consent to doing it every single morning. Well, if she did not want Harry to be happy going to work and therefore perform badly, he would let it rest on her conscience.

His focus fell on the kitchen table as he munched on his toast and drank his apple juice. Another sly smile crawled on his face as he recalled something: he and Hermione had shagged on the table, twice. One minute had had been playfully tickling her, against her will, near one of the chairs, and the next minute they were on the surface having sex, with Hermione holding him for dear life and moaning uncontrollably. They often did it in unusual places, but that could be attributed to the reality that the urge often came out of nowhere. In Harry's opinion, however, the unconventional places were the best ones. _We've done it on the sofa, but that's pretty normal, _he thought, _the bathroom, the study, in the shower, the kitchen—oh, the kitchen was _nice!

After Harry was done mentally noting every corner of the flat where they had shagged, he went back to his room. Yes, today would be good… and he had, of course, forgotten about his promise to eat dinner at the Granger's that week.

* * *

It took Harry only ten minutes to prepare for work, whereas Hermione found herself rushing and not fully ready when it came time to leave. She looked a bit disconcerted when she walked into Books, Bludgers & Batteries, and was still in the process of putting her hair up.

"Looking a little flustered, Hermione love," Natalie commented from her desk, "Lovely morning with Harry?" She blushed and unsuccessfully tried to give an answer. Well, _yes_—she had had a romp with him earlier, but that wasn't the reason she appeared windswept. She let it go and went back to her office.

When Hermione's lunch hour came, she went to find Talia so they could go eat together at a nearby café. Natalie would have joined them but her lunch break for that day was an hour later. As they came from the second floor and headed for the door, talking lively, someone came up behind them.

"This is the _worst _shop I've ever been in! The service here is _abysmal_! Workers taking breaks whenever the fancy strikes them!" the person declared. Both witches turned around to see another witch, smiling. Her red hair framed her pretty face.

"Ginny!" Hermione cried. They hugged each other.

"Hello Talia," the sole Weasley daughter greeted.

"Hi Ginny!" she responded.

"What are you doing here?" wondered Hermione.

"I supposed I would come and eat lunch with you. I mean, it's been _ages _since I've seen you!"

"I know! Saturday was _decades _ago."

"Exactly!" They laughed lightly as they left the bookstore.

"How's work Ginny?" Talia questioned.

"Uh, beginning to be boring and repetitive," she told her.

"You're _already_ tired of your job?"

"Yes."

"But you're only 18!"

"I've been doing it September, that's long enough to know I can't stand it," Ginny reasoned, "And I'm not the only young wizard who hates their job—Harry does too." Ginny was an Obliviator in the same department as Neville.

"Harry doesn't hate his job." Hermione said, looking at her old housemate.

"All right then—he greatly dislikes it," she shrewdly smiled, "There's no denying it, Hermione." The brunette sighed, recognizing her friend's point.

"So what do you want to do?" Talia inquired.

"That's the ironic thing," the redhead laughed, "_I_ want to be an Auror! I don't understand how he doesn't like it."

"You'd make a brilliant Auror! You should do it, Ginny."

"Yeah… I'm going to ask Harry and Tonks for their help. Perhaps I'll be able to start training in May or something."

The three young women came to the restaurant five minutes later and chose to sit outside and dine. (The meals seemed to operate on the same system as the one at Hogwarts' Yule Ball; you spoke what you craved to the plate).

"Oh, right. I'm supposed to let you know we're having a Weasely supper on Sunday, Hermione, at the Burrow. You and Harry are expected there." Ginny reported.

"And if we I, or we, can't make it?" Hermione pondered, though she had every intention of going. It would be nice to see all of the Weaselys together.

"Mum will die from a broken heart and all the credit will go to you," she casually said. The ex-Head Girl grinned, "I'm sure Fred's brining Angelina, but I don't know what Ron said about Luna."

"He'd better come with her, and _you'd _better invite Richard! You don't bring him around enough." Richard Cullen was Ginny's boyfriend. He was a Scottish wizard who worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and was two months younger than Ron. (She and Colin had broken up at the start of their seventh year).

"There's a reason for that," Ginny explained, "I have a father and six brothers, and Ron's the absolute worst."

"Well, Ron acts like a primitive beast at times. Isn't Richard trained to handle him?" Hermione quipped. Talia smiled and Ginny laughed appreciatively.

Hermione was not the only one who received a visit from a member of the pureblood family during her break. As Harry was planning to leave his office and head up to Ron's, two old men with massive amounts of white hair ambled inside. He stared at them, eyebrows raised.

"Er… can I help you, sirs?" he hesitantly asked.

"Yes, you can," one replied.

"We want to take a hit out on someone," the other added.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, in bewilderment.

"A wizard named Ronald Weasley."

"What!" His door then closed on its own. He went right for his wand, knowing something was wrong. The old men threw something into their mouths and moments later morphed into Fred and George.

"Pip pip Harry!" Fred grinned. The Boy Who Prevailed relaxed.

"You arseholes," he smiled. The twins laughed.

"Would you have helped two old gentlemen take our dear brother out?" George inquired.

"No!"

"Going to his office, were you?"

"Yeah." Harry answered.

"We'll come with you."

"Change back into old men, then. You know what'll happen if Medwick sees you."

"New product," George revealed, holding a tablet up, "Like it? It's much faster than Polyjuice Potion and you control the time, though you can't choose whom you change into."

"It's genius." Harry stated, meaning it. Fred and George never ceased amazing him.

They threw their invention into their mouths and transformed back into the old wizards, winking at Harry. They had to be in disguise because, technically, the twins were not allowed in Auror headquarters—they had been given a ban. In January, Medwick snapped and roared that if he ever saw Fred & George in his domain again, he would personally haul them off to Azkaban. He had tired of the twins distracting his workers and bringing disorder whenever they visited headquarters. Fred and George had been thrilled upon receiving the prohibition and considered it their crowning punishment to date.

Harry and his elderly counterparts left his office, and not long after were in Ron's. The owner had been working on a report of some kind with his food spread on his desk.

"That's enough of that," (regular) Fred claimed, snatching the parchment away.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed.

"It's your break, you prat!" George reminded him. He shrugged and reached for his meal.

"We stopped by Ginny's department but she was gone," remarked Fred, throwing himself on the couch.

"Yeah, I was talking to her and she said she's right sick of her job." Ron noted.

"Really?" Harry questioned. His best friend nodded. Well, at least he wasn't alone.

"That's because you all are slaves to the Ministry man," George told them, "Should have done like us and pursued a hobby."

"Hermione did." Harry commented.

"So did I! _I _love my job. Quidditch—what more could I ask?" Ron said.

"You're still the Ministry's bitch." George quietly stated. Ron did not hear him; Harry stifled a laugh.

"Oi, you." Fred began, finding a Knut in the cushions and throwing it at his younger brother.

"What! You sodding wanker!" Ron vehemently responded. He hurled it back and missed.

"Did you tell Harry about Sunday?"

"Mum wants you to come to dinner on Sunday. There. Yes, I told him."

"It's going to be a Weasley affair. Mum's demanding everyone's presence since it's been too long that we've all been together. Her words." George reported.

"An opportune day to torment Percy," his twin smiled.

"And Fred has to announce his engagement." Ron's drink came flying out of his mouth and Harry's jaw dropped.

"Prick!" Fred shouted crossly at George.

"Your _what!_" Ron asked, gaping.

"You're engaged to Angelina!" inquired Harry, also gawking.

"No," Fred answered, glaring at his mere image, "I'm not! Well, not yet…"

"What happened to being too young?" Ron pondered, smiling.

"We're 22 next month—I'm not _that _young. And I'm pretty sure I don't want to date another girl—it's too much trouble. _And _I was _just _thinking about it!" His voice suggested he wanted the topic dropped.

"All right, all right."

"That's the last time I tell _you _anything." Fred grumbled to George.

* * *

Hermione returned to the apartment at exactly 5:07. After she had changed, she called her parents' house to check if dinner was still on. It was: the next night, in fact. Not a minute after she had hung up, Harry came home. He continued to be in the good mood that originated in the morning.

"How was today?" she asked.

"Much better than yesterday," he replied, kissing her, "I saw Fred and George and they told me about dinner at the Burrow—"

"On Sunday. Yes, I saw Ginny and she told me as well." Harry nodded.

"Let's eat now—I'm hungry."

"Erm, since we're on the subject of dinner, Harry, you haven't forgotten about my parents, have you?" Hermione wondered. Yes, he had. All of the anxiety came rushing back to him and his mood started to change.

"Oh.. .yeah," he rather dejectedly responded. He was going to have to be in Mr. Granger's intimidating company. She immediately began making assurances and told him not to worry, that things would go well, and that everything was okay.

"It's okay." Hermione guaranteed as they stood on the doorstep of her childhood dwelling, Wednesday evening.

"Please stop saying that Hermione," Harry murmured, staring at the door, "It's not helping much."

"Sorry." She then pushed the door in and they walked inside the front hallway.

"Mum? Dad? We're here!" she announced.

"In the sitting room, sweetheart," came her father's voice. Harry grimaced faintly and Hermione took his hand, taking a right and leading him to the living room. (The kitchen was to their left and the staircase was directly in front of them).

"Hello dad," she greeted when they walked in. She hugged him and left a kiss on his cheek.

"Hello dear. Your mother's upstairs," Samuel remarked. He then turned to Harry, who felt like a deer in headlights, "Harry."

"Mr. Granger." They shook hands, and the older man's eyes never left the younger's face.

"Call me Samuel. I think I've told you this before." To Harry, her father's eyes seemed to be saying, "Don't you _dare _call me by my first name. You haven't reached that point yet! And I _know _you've been violating my daughter; I'll get it out of you somehow".

Harry strove to keep his expression neutral and not give anything away such as, "Yes, yes! It's true! I'm sorry! We did it just this afternoon! We both came home on our lunch hour, and we shagged right by the door! We didn't even bother to go to the bedroom! _And _she's living with me! I'm a horrible person, I know!".

"It seems a little disrespectful to me, sir." Harry carefully told him.

"Perhaps in due time then, eh?" Mr. Granger suggested, studying him. Harry nodded, smiling weakly. Hermione was beaming inwardly, feeling that her boyfriend was doing well.

Emily Granger came down shortly thereafter and greeted Hermione & Harry jovially.

"Into the other room! The food is already on the table," she instructed, waving them away with her hands. They sat in the kitchen at the table meant for four. (The dining room housed the larger table reserved for larger gatherings).

The repast was superb, and Harry found that he was much more at ease with Mr. Granger with the Granger women there. He even managed to keep good conversation. So when Emily recruited Hermione to help her bring over the dessert (lemon tart and tea) from the other side of the room, Harry was not precisely happy.

"So, Harry, how is your career at the Ministry going?" Samuel asked, once his child and wife were gone.

"Er… well, Mr. Granger…" he lied. Well he couldn't tell him the truth, could he? It would not sound promising to say he had started dreading his job and thought about quitting at times.

"Are you sure? You didn't sound too convinced," the older man observed.

"No, it's… great! So how's your practice?" Harry wanted a new topic.

"Just fine, thank you. I enjoy it. I suspect you and Hermione see a lot of each other?"

"Yes."

"Every day."

"Yes, sir..." Okay, this was an even worse topic.

"Visit one another a lot, do you," Samuel gave a small sigh, "I remember what it's like to be your age and in love. You _are _in love with my daughter, aren't you? Otherwise you'd simply be having _fun _with her." Harry could feel the sweat on his back and neck as he stared helplessly at Hermione's father, not knowing what to say. Oh, how long did it take to carry sweets across a room?

* * *

A/N: I wanted to say some things. Things! J/k. Anyway, Dumbledore's death—he died for numerous reasons, but mainly because he was old and weary. :Dramatically: His heart had seen too much! Oh, and in chapter 4, I put the wrong 'whose' somewhere. It shoulda been 'who's'. Eh. Too lazy to find it.

It may not seem like this story has a plot, but it does—trust me! The ball should start rolling in chapter _sept_—seven, in French. Well, that's all. Next week, I shall post. (Ho! Talking like Yoda the great)!


	6. A Cornucopia of Reunions

A/N: Don't look at me like that! And stop with your third degree! I _know _it's been eons since I've posted and I apologize profoundly—but college is damn hard! I hate it, by the way. Finals are week after next and I've been working like a madman, but first semester will be over soon and then I have like two months of nothing; I can work on this fic. Thank you to my new reviewers. You earned the title of kick ass dukes. Oh, to **HermioneGirl03**—Hermione and Harry shag a lot cause… they're young and love each other… and he really likes sex. Lol.

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 6**

Harry was virtually silent after Mr. Granger's interrogation. And to think, he had thought the dinner had been going abnormally well…. Hermione sensed that ever since they had sat down at the table to eat, her mother had wanted to say _something_ to her. Emily had been very close to blurting it out a few times while they fetched the dessert, but she always managed to catch herself in the end. Whatever it was, it caught Hermione's attention and refused to let go, although she _did _have a small intuition of foreboding for some reason.

Hermione had not been home for 50 seconds when the phone rang and glowed blue on Thursday evening. She pushed the observation that she needed to go to her flat for certain things to the back of her mind.

"Hello?" she greeted, taking her robe off and trying not to sigh.

"Hermione, love," said her mother.

"Hi mum."

"I'm sorry, but I've been bothered by this since about January and have just now found the nerve to bring it up," Hermione's curiosity and dread flared up, "I was on the verge of addressing it last night but—"

"I noticed."

"Yes, well…" Emily commented.

"What is it mum?" asked the brunette.

"All right. Well, I know that you don't necessarily have to answer me, but as your mother I would _hope _you will think of how we raised you to be honest, and know that you can talk to me—"

"Mum!"

"Okay, yes. Hermione—I need to know, _want _to know, if… if you are still a virgin."

Well, it wasn't like Hermione hadn't expected this subject to come up between her mother and herself, but she had never truly figured out a way to discuss it. She did not particularly want to talk about her sex life with her mother and was slightly terrified. How was Emily going to react? Would she be thoroughly distraught? Would lying do any good? No…

"Uh…," she shakily began. She cleared her throat and calmed herself as much as possible, "I… I am n-not. No. No, mum, I'm not." There was a pause of silence. Dear God, what was she thinking?

"I'd figured as much; I didn't think you were." Emily noted with a bit of exasperation in her voice.

"R-Really! I, I mean, you're not angry? Or disappointed? Or sad?"

"I can't really be, can I? You're an adult Hermione, even if it is difficult recognizing it at times. Just… it's only been… you've only been with…"

"Only Harry, mum, yes." Hermione hurried to explain, feeling a deal better.

"Since… when?" Emily wondered.

"Last year. _After _we were out of school! How… how'd you know?"

"It was more of an assumption. You're both young, you obviously are mad for each other, and Harry is a very attractive young man. I didn't think you'd be able to hold out for very long." The Muggleborn smiled, but it evaporated at her next thought.

"Mum," she began, horrified, "You won't tell dad!"

"Heavens no dear! I'm a woman—I know to keep some things quiet! Besides, your father would kill Harry if he knew."

"My thought exactly." Hermione laughed, relieved.

"Though, Hermione… I only have one request, or plea. I hope you used, or are _using_… hope you're being—"

"Mum, yes! Of course!" she exclaimed, interpreting her struggling as, "I need not tell you to use protection". Indeed, she was. Hermione took a potion every three days that prevented pregnancy.

"Oh, good. I want grandchildren sweetheart, but not now, and not if you're unmarried."

Mother and daughter spoke for another five minutes and then hung up. _That _had been an interesting conversation, one she did not precisely want to have again. When Harry returned to the apartment, he came with suggestions.

"Let's not eat here tonight," he said, finding her in the study.

"We didn't eat here last night," countered Hermione, working on a proposal filed on behalf of a mistreated group of sprites.

"That was yesterday. This is today."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with it being your turn to cook, would it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry declared. He wanted to take the paper out of her hands but knew, from learning the hard way, that it would be a terrifically awful move.

"Whatever Harry," she smiled.

"Good! Taking that as a yes, I've got another brilliant plan."

"Yes?"

"Let's visit Remus tomorrow evening after work. What's that you say? You'd love to? Well that's perfect because he's expecting us at seven." Hermione stared at him, an amused yet disgruntled smile playing with her features.

"_You _are extremely lucky I like Remus and want to see him," she remarked, pointing at him. She then stood up and started cleaning the desk, putting things away.

"What? You act as if you don't like it when I dictate your schedule." Harry grinned. The former Head Girl gave the former Seeker a very pointed look that conveyed her response to that statement.

Hermione walked out of the study and Harry followed.

"So I guess sex in the restaurant's bathroom at 7:18 is off?" he wondered. She turned on him with her wand and he hastily ducked into the nearest room.

Harry and Hermione waited for Remus Lupin to answer his door as the nippy March darkness pressed in on them the next night. They had a passive disagreement about brining him a small token of hospitality, as they always did.

"We've been here loads of times Hermione, and you know he won't accept anything." Harry responded, "His birthday just passed anyway. He won't take any more gifts."

"Hermione, Harry—how are you?" the remaining Marauder greeted as he opened his door.

"Hello Remus," grinned Harry.

"We're fine. And you?" Hermione said warmly. He stepped aside and ushered them in.

Lupin's home was small yet comfortable—meant for one. The kitchen and dining room was directly right of the modest living room, and a hall led to the back of the cottage (which contained two bedrooms and a bathroom). He had a petit, picturesque garden as well that only stayed kept up because of magic.

"Food?" Remus asked them as they settled in.

"Sure." Harry responded. The werewolf conjured up tea, small cakes, crackers, and cheese with his wand.

"How was your day?" Hermione wondered, taking a cup.

"Uneventful," the werewolf smiled, "How is work? For both of you?"

"Oh, splendid!" She then launched into a ten minute narrative of how Books, Bludgers & Batteries had been functioning lately.

"I know of another man with my condition, newly bitten mind you, and he could use your shop's help, Hermione. I'll talk to you about it later." Remus revealed.

"Of course," she replied.

"Harry? Your Auror duties?"

"Er…," The Boy Who Prevailed looked at his father's old friend and tried to think of something satisfactory to say, "They're… normal. Well, I mean…"

"Still a bit unhappy with your career, are you?" Lupin commented, setting his tea down and smiling faintly. Harry did not answer, but bit into cake to hide his guilty grin. After all these years it was still uncanny how the ex-professor seemed to know everything he was feeling.

"Well, don't stay with anything you can't stand, that's all I have to say," he stated.

"How… how did my dad like it? Being an Auror?" Harry pondered.

"James loved it. Though, his determination to fight Voldemort was a part of it…" Harry nodded.

"Did Mrs. Weasley invite you to the Burrow on Sunday, Remus?" Hermione wondered.

"She did, yes, as well as Arthur. I've accepted and expect to see you there. How is the twins' joke shop flourishing?"

"It's great, of course," the green eyed young man smiled, "They've just invented something that parodies Polyjuice Potion. It's brilliant."

"They truly are amazing," said Remus, shaking his head and folding his arms, "And Ginny? Ron?"

"Ron's fine. Continues to be obsessed with his job."

"Ginny wants to be an Auror." Hermione told him.

"Really?" Moony wondered.

"Really?" Harry swiftly inquired, turning to her.

"Yeah. She said she wants to talk to you about it." Lupin was silent for a moment while he looked at them reflectively.

"I saw that Draco Malfoy has a poison on the market," he remarked when he spoke again. "Oh, about _that_." Harry began, now turning to him. He initiated a tirade that soon became a rant about Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eater law.

Harry & Hermione left almost two hours later and after another tray of food. They always had an amicable time when they visited Lupin.

"It's still early. Do you want to do anything?" Harry asked her as they appeared on their doorstep.

"Um…," she started, clearly thinking, "Oh! Natalie and Talia were talking about doing something earlier. Their shift ends in a few minutes… we could stop by and see what they're doing."

"It wouldn't only be us four, would it?" he reticently wondered. The idea of being the only male in a group of three females was not precisely comforting.

"No. Talia has a boyfriend, remember? And I'm _sure _Natalie can just pick up any man on the street." Hermione answered. Harry laughed.

* * *

Saturday was the day off. (In fact, they miraculously had the entire weekend to themselves, something that hadn't occurred in awhile). After a very lazy morning, in which they had awaken a little before ten but hadn't gotten out of bed for another hour and a half, they went to Hogwarts. It had been decided the previous week that they would go see Hagrid, and Ron came to the flat 30 minutes after noon to accompany them.

"We have to go after lunch," the redhead had observed when the suggestion came up, "I'm _not _eating what he thinks constitutes as food."

"Oy, Harry, we're going to the pub later tonight—Millie's. You know, Seamus, Neville and Dean. Coming?" present Ron inquired as they came to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

"All right," his best friend said.

"I'm assuming the presence of estrogen is not wanted." Hermione tetchily noted.

"Well, Dean _might _be there. He's still cozying up to that Samantha witch…" the Weasley son went on, ignoring Hermione.

"Ron!" she angrily exclaimed, glaring at him. Harry tensed; he could detect a (possible) fight coming on.

"What! Yes Hermione, it's a mans' night out, all right?"

"Mans'…" the Muggleborn muttered, scoffing.

"Excuse me, but _I'm _20! I _am _a man!"

"Then you should act like it, and stop being so rude! Trust me, I do _not _want to go to the pub but it would have been courteous to ask! It's the little things, Ron!" Hermione then quickened her pace and walked ahead of them obstinately. The redhead pulled grotesque faces at her back in return. Harry stared at him, hands in his pockets. He had _never _enjoyed their bickering.

"What _is _it with her! She is always on my back," Ron half-shouted, "I stand by what I said years ago—she's mad!" The former Seeker did not really have an answer so remained quiet.

"There's no way we could've… been together. We row too much." Ron commented a minute later, when he was calmer. _Yeah, and over everything_, Harry mentally added.

They came to the gates of Hogwarts not very long after, the argument forgotten at the sight of the castle. Seven years of their lives had passed in that structure and some of their memories, good and bad, resided in it as well. Hermione gave a mournful sigh, fingers gripping the metal.

"Hogwarts… two years ago, eh?" Ron quietly remarked. Harry merely nodded. Their end had been an unusual one, and significantly dismal for Harry.

"We should go and see McGonagall before we leave, and… Dumbledore's portrait…" he told them, eyes on the school. Ron looked at him, not needing to speak to agree. Hermione's hand moved from the gate to her boyfriend's hand, grasping it.

The trip to Hagrid's hut had been worth it; it was always fun to be in his company. He was the only one who could fully succeed in making them feel 11 and carefree once more. They sojourned with the headmistress as proposed, to her subdued enjoyment, and a few of the professors. (They had a time escaping the exuberant students who were blown away to see Harry Potter). Ron left them when they returned to their flat in the late afternoon, claiming he had an engagement with Luna and vowing to see Harry later that night & Hermione the next day.

"I'm going to get some work done in the study," she reported. Harry knew he could, and _should_, practice certain Auror spells but watching television on the sofa, and possibly falling asleep, sounded much more appealing.

He had been an hour through it when a knock came on the door. It turned out to be a couple of his and Ron's good acquaintances from the Magical Sports Department wondering if he "wanted to play a game of Quidditch at Eric's house". Harry jumped at the chance, informed Hermione, grabbed his Silver Nova, and gladly departed. Two new brooms had come out several weeks earlier for the wizarding world to drool over: the Silver Nova and the Orion 321. Like usual, the cost for them was depressing and the Quidditch teams were snatching them up left and right. The Boy Who Prevailed felt compelled to buy one since he hadn't gotten a novel broom since his fourth year and knew it was time, though he kept his Firebolt because it had been a gift from Sirius and a loyal companion. And what a better way to deplete his wealth than by purchasing an expensive broomstick… or rather two—Harry had bought Ron an Orion for his 20th birthday. The redhead had all but passed out and swore, in supreme awe, that Harry was the greatest living human on Earth.

The greatest living human on Earth was done playing Quidditch after two hours. He had played Seeker and relived the thrill of zooming through the air after the Snitch. Harry was still elated when he returned home, but then began thinking that he did not play any longer and was now stuck in an office. He was glad when ten o'clock rolled around and he arrived at Millie's to purge that horrible thought from his mind with alcohol. Dean was not originally with the four of them but walked in half an hour later, coming from a date with Samantha.

"Have you banged her yet?" was the first thing out of his best friend's mouth. Laughter then followed.

"Hey, hey—you see those girls over there? The four of 'em, been looking at us tonight. Let's send 'em drinks!" Seamus proposed, at a quarter until midnight. He was working on his fifth drink.

"Isn't that sending the wrong message?" Neville responded. He was in the middle of his second drink.

"Well they _are _attractive." Ron chuckled heartily. (He had just finished his fourth drink).

"Last time I checked, we all had girlfriends you twit." This time Harry and Dean laughed.

"It's a friendly gesture, you bastard," assured Seamus, waving him off.

"I'm going to get another." Harry announced, getting up for his third glass.

"Get Longbottom another, mate! He _never _drinks enough!"

"I'm fine!" Neville retorted, furrowing his brow.

"I'll take one Harry. Anything's all right," smiled Dean, raising his hand. As the dark haired young man left his friends, Ron told a blunt joke and uproarious laughter was heard. There was nothing like a good night with friends and liquor.

"What'll you have, Harry?" grinned the barman when he approached.

"A Phoenix Fire and… Dark Delight," he responded.

"Right away!" Harry turned around and surveyed the pub as he waited. Millie's was full of wizards and witches, most all smiling and laughing.

"Harry?" an eager voice said, stealing his attention. It belonged to a female and was recognizable. He looked to his right and saw, with a drink in her hand, Cho Chang.

"C-Cho!" he replied, stammering. She was beaming, though blushing somewhat, and looked as pretty as ever.

"Hi!"

"H-Hi."

"Wow, it's been… ages!"

"Yeah, it has." He hadn't seen her since the end of his sixth year.

"So… how are you?" Cho asked.

"I'm… all right. You?" Harry remarked.

"I'm fine. Who… are you here with anyone?"

"My mates. Are you?" It was a colossal shock seeing her again.

"Oh, yes… my friends as well, from the magazine!" she smiled, looking away after her sentence. He heard his drinks being set down on the counter behind him and turned to retrieve them, thinking it a perfect diversion to rid of some of the awkwardness.

"Look, Harry—it really has been years since we've seen one another. And we didn't precisely leave on good terms," Cho spilled, only looking at him fleetingly, "What… what if we had lunch next week, just to catch up?"

He didn't know exactly how he felt about her proposition, still trying to comprehend that he was talking to her once more. But, they had ended things sourly and Cho currently seemed sincere…

"Um… sure. That's, fine." Harry told her.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful," she stated, face lighting up, "So, I'll just… owl your office on Monday or something?"

"Okay."

"Great! Well, I'll… I'll see you next week Harry." He nodded, looking at her.

"Bye then!" Cho bid.

"Bye." She hurried off into the crowd, apparently going to her table. Harry shook his head and started back himself. That had been a bit disorienting.

"What took so long?" Ron questioned as Harry neared them.

"I, er, ran into someone," he reported. He passed Dean the Phoenix Fire.

"Thanks."

"Who?" wondered Neville.

"Cho," answered Harry, sitting down. They all looked at him.

"_Chang_?" Seamus probed, surprised.

"Bloody hell!" Dean stated.

"I heard she had moved to Wales." Neville commented. There was a brief silence before Ron inquired:

"Was she still really good looking?" For some reason, this made them laugh for about the 300th time that night.

* * *

Harry scrambled into bed next to Hermione at 1:30 in the morning. He felt badly for having left her alone for half of the day, but she was asleep and he didn't want to disturb her by waking her up and apologizing. He awoke hours later to the sound of running water. His vision was blurry as he tried to pointlessly make out the numbers on the alarm clock. Once his sight went from horrible to the normal bad, he stretched and reached for his glasses. So that was the time: 8:48.

Hermione then walked by the bed in order to get to the closet that was on the left wall; she did not notice that he was no longer slumbering.

"Hello." Harry greeted. She jumped and turned around.

"Oh, Harry—you're up," the Muggleborn observed, "What time did you get in?"

"1:30. I'm hungry."

"Well that's good to hear," she wryly smiled, knowing what he was trying to insinuate. Harry grinned; he hadn't expected her to make him breakfast in the least bit.'

"I was about to go visit my flat. I need a few things." Hermione said, grabbing one of her sweaters from the closet.

"I'll go with you," he offered, getting out of bed.

"You don't have to Harry."

"I want to, "And he did, "Just give me 15 minutes."

Hermione's apartment was like everything else she owned—neat and in order. She stood in the center of the living room when they entered and Harry went straight to the kitchen for food. There would not be much, but he could find something.

"Let's see…," she started, "Oh, I need to dust, and the windows!" Hermione took out her wand, said two incantations, and watched rags & dusters fly forth to do her bidding. She then walked out of the living room and to her room.

Ten minutes later, she emerged from the back with a white shopping bag. The cleaning supplies had ceased five minutes before that and Harry was at the bookshelf leafing through a book.

"I feel like a terrible person for not sleeping here more often. The poor flat feels lonely!" Hermione pointed out.

"You're feeling sorry for a building?" he grinned.

"Well it's sad! My poor bed hasn't been touched in months."

"Really?" A glint had come into his eyes. He closed the book and tossed it on the couch.

"And the dust was just a reminder that I'm never here," she continued, not sensing the change in her boyfriend.

"Well, we _could _fix the bed problem. In fact, it could be viewed as a _christening_, seeing as how we've never broken it in." Harry was right in front of her and smiling wickedly. It suddenly dawned on her what he was talking about. She pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips.

"Harry—"

"You only look cuter when you do that," he insisted, seizing her around the waist, "No?" He began kissing her, once, twice, three times, four…

"No?" he wondered again. Hermione shook her head, though she was smiling. Harry started kissing her again, but this time with deliberate, intense kisses. Once, twice… her eyes closed… three times, four… her hands laced themselves around his neck… five, six… she pressed against him so that there was no space between them whatsoever… seven… he moved down to her neck, her spot.

It didn't take very long for Hermione to yield. She was biting her lip and clutching him as he attacked her neck with his lips and tongue.

"No?" he asked breathily, still lingering at her throat. He left a small kiss at the base.

"Yes." Hermione corrected, greedily finding his lips once more.

They began to move towards her room with Harry leading, since she was backwards, while persisting to kiss passionately. Hermione gave up very quickly and climbed onto Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist. They stayed in the same spot for a few moments, still snogging, and then he carried her into her room, and to the awaiting bed.

* * *

A/N: My stomach hurts. I am hungry. Anyway! Couple of things here….

1) Story blunder: Ron was supposed to meet Harry and Hermione at their flat so they could go eat together in the first and fourth chapters. He didn't and they showed up at the restaurant. Oops!

2) I didn't write for Hagrid b/c I hate his guts. Besides, I don't know how. Anyone who read **Lock and Key** can testify to that, lol.

3) Remus' birthday is on March 10th, swear to JKR, but I didn't include it in the story. He's 40 here.

4) The Weasley dinner was supposed to be in this chapter but it was long enough without it. It'll start of chapter seven.

That's all. I will try my hardest to have chapter seven up next week.


	7. Of Birthdays and Purebloods

A/N: All right, so I have not posted in a long time. Is that not the story of my fanfiction life? I'm sorry! But I swear, by all things Harry Potter, I _will_ have chapter 8 up next week. Thanks to my new reviewers—you will be granted a small country in my new world order.

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 7**

They arrived at the Burrow a little before seven o'clock that night, only to see that everyone else was already present. Besides the Weasleys (which included the wives), there was Luna, Angelina, Remus, Tonks and Richard. Molly was happily busy in the kitchen assisting the magicked kitchen supplies while speaking avidly with her daughter-in-law Penelope.

" 'Arry!" Fleur exclaimed upon seeing him in the living room. She pecked him on both cheeks as Hermione greeted Angelina. She found it humorous that she now reached up to kiss him whereas she had bent down five years previously.

"Hello Fleur," he responded.

"All right Harry?" her husband wondered, shaking his hand.

"Just fine, Bill." Harry grinned.

Hermione moved to say hello to Luna, who was talking to Ginny. She noted, with a wry smile, that Richard stood right next to her and didn't appear to want to leave her side.

"Hello Luna, Ginny, Richard!" she hailed.

"Good evening Hermione," Luna replied, "Did you happen to find any information about the missing dorfmuffs?"

"Er… no—not yet. It's… difficult." Luna had come to Hermione with a case of a vanished group of dorfmuffs, insisting it was a hate crime by wizards, and asking for help. Hermione thought she knew the solution to the problem: dorfmuffs did not exist! Of course, she did not voice this opinion; Luna had indeed subsided in her weirdness but she occasionally had her slip ups.

"How has it been with Richard and your brothers?" Hermione quietly asked Ginny, pulling her aside.

"Terrible, and dinner hasn't even started! I came at 6:30, which was a monstrous mistake, and they bombarded him! They've only now let off but I know they have much more for him. I think he's traumatized."

"I'll have Harry sit next to him at the table for his safety," she smiled.

"Harry, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder when he had finished speaking with Tonks and Angelina, "I got tickets for the upcoming Kestrel, Bat game. It's Saturday."

"Excellent! I'll try to get the day off," he answered.

"Back to work tomorrow?"

"Yes, and the additional four hour training." Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. Ron smiled.

"Outside everyone! It's ready," Mrs. Weasley declared as Penelope carried a dish out of the house, followed by Percy, "Charlie, dear, get the silverware. Ron, grab the glasses and _don't _break them! George, love, take two dishes—NO! Use your _hands_! You don't need magic for everything!"

"I thought you said it was ready." Fred muttered, an arm around Angelina's waist. Molly glared at him.

"_You_ go fetch your father. I know he's fiddling with his Muggle gadgets," she instructed. The twin went grudgingly, leaving his girlfriend to merge with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Remus, if you'd be a sweetheart and carry the tarts—" Mrs. Weasley began.

"Of course Molly," he remarked.

Once outside, to where the table had been extended significantly, Hermione implored to Harry regarding Ginny's problem.

"Sit next to Richard," she told him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you'll get to know him better, and because the Weasley men have been targeting him. Oh," Ron was walking to Richard's left where there was an empty spot in a determined fashion, "Go! Go!" Hermione quickly guided Harry to the vacant seat and pushed his back with all of her strength. He staggered, startled, and grabbed the back of the chair for support. Ron, mere inches away, frowned heavily.

"Sorry Ron!" Hermione sweetly smiled, going to sit on Ginny's right. He looked at her, Richard, then at his best friend whom had sat down unsurely, with his own frown.

"Hey, Richard…" he mumbled.

"Harry," the man answered, his apprehension evaporating.

Luna sat next to Harry, and Ron, on one end of their side, took the place beside her. George was next to Hermione, Bill next to him, and Fleur on the other end of their side. Across from Richard on the other side of the table was Molly. Arthur sat on her left, Remus on his left, Tonks next to Lupin, Angelina next to Tonks, and Fred on their end of the table. Percy, Penelope, and Charlie were the last three on Molly's right side.

They started to eat and commence spirited chatter. It was the fullest Harry had ever seen the Burrow and it was fantastic. Five seconds did not pass without laughter coming from somewhere along the table.

"So Ginny, I hear you hate your job too." Harry said, while Richard spoke with Hermione.

"Do you?" she smiled.

"Yes. It's nice to know I'm not alone."

"I was going to ask for your help, Harry. I really want to become an Auror and since you and Tonks work in the department, I thought you could direct me, if I need it."

"Of course! I can get you an application if you need, and when you're finished just give it to me; I'll hand it off to the right people," He might as well use his fame and influence for the good of others, "Though, I don't feel wholly right for dragging you into the murky depths that belong to being an Auror."

"It cannot be that horrible. You, Mr. Potter, are just impossible to please," grinned Ginny.

"I was _not _that bad," they heard Ron protest, ears possessing a hint of red, "And not so loud!" He glanced at his mother.

"You _were _dancing on the table. Atrociously." Charlie replied, smiling. Harry grinned, realizing what they were discussing: Ron's 20th birthday party.

The Chudley Cannons had rented an entire pub and thrown Ron a surprise birthday celebration. It was very enjoyable, with many people and plenty of food. Ron, however, consumed a more than adequate amount of alcohol and ended up dancing enthusiastically on the tables to numerous songs performed by the live band.

Most everyone on Ron's side of the table snickered or hid large smiles.

"Wait, he has a point Charlie," began George, leaning casually back in his seat, "He _wasn't _that bad—he dances like that on a regular basis, not only when full of whiskey." Laughter rang out but died upon a glare from Ron; Ginny did not cease, on the other hand.

"You're one to laugh Ginny," her brother started, "Need I remind you of your 18th birthday?" She shut her mouth and glowered at him as the others laughed again. Consequently, Harry did not join them but rather cleared his throat and began to blush as Hermione wore an embarrassed smile.

"I had _way _too much to drink! It affected my judgment!" Ginny hissed.

"That was obvious." Bill mused.

"Ginny's friends made sure to have more than enough alcohol for her on her past birthday. She had undoubtedly had it before, but not to that excess; that had been the birthday to get her "properly pissed". (The following day the Weasley girl vowed to never get drunk again).

…

_Ginny clumsily walked by one of her friends who was in deep conversation with a young wizard whose name escaped Ginny. She had a drink in her left hand and went to take a swig._

"_Gmpf!" she exclaimed as she stumbled on nothing in particular. She would have gone quite far had she not fallen into someone._

"_Harry!" she cried happily, clinging to him, "I mean—I mean—Harry. Ssssh!" Ginny lowered her voice and shushed him. He frowned down on her._

"_They're looking for me," she told him shiftily._

"_Ginny, you're drunk," he commented._

"_No I'm not!"_

"_Yes, you are. Give me your drink."_

"_No! Get your own," Ginny half-shouted, "You're not my brother, 'cause I have six and you're not one of 'em. I don't need ano-another, thanks."_

"_Ginny—" Harry commenced._

"_They're looking for me."_

"_You already said that. Who is?" He tried to wrestle the drink from her and balance her at the same time. Her legs seemed to have stopped functioning._

"_Everyone! Ron, Bill, George, Fred, Hermione—they don't want me drinkin'."_

"_I don't either, not like this. Let me—"_

"_We're both leos, yeah Harry?" she wondered loudly._

"_Er…yeah. Ginny—" Harry responded._

"_Can I tell you something Harry?"_

"_Sure." He saw the group she was running from not too far away and caught its attention with his eyes._

"_I used to like you. I used to fancy you a lot. A lot. Remember?"_

"_Uh, yes, Ginny…" Drunk or not, it was odd talking about that._

"_You were cool Harry; I liked you. I still do but like a friend, 'cause you're my friend and you're with Hermione and she's my friend too!" explained Ginny. _

"_Uh huh." Harry tried for the drink again but she would not let go._

"_Hey where's Hermione?" she asked._

"_Coming, thank Merlin…"_

"_Will she be upset if I kiss you? I've always wanted to."_

"_What?" he questioned, thrown violently off track. Ginny then dropped her drink on the floor and threw her arms around his neck, crashing her lips into his._

_Harry was immeasurably taken aback, to say the least. After a few moments of immobility from absolute shock he pulled back from her, face displaying everything he felt._

"_Ginny!"_

"_Oi! Hermione! He's a good kisser! Would you be willing to share him?" she yelled, turning to find the brunette. Hermione stood not three feet from them wearing an expression that most everyone else, who was also gawking at the couple, had on. Ginny closed her eyes and made a small groan._

"_I don't feel very well," she noted, leaning against Harry._

…

"It was an obvious mistake with a reasonable explanation." Ginny defended, arms folded. Richard did not appear to have liked the story as much as certain others.

"It ended well for Harry!" quipped George. The Boy Who Prevailed's cheeks were burning as light laughter floated around him.

"Yeah, it's a good thing Ginny was laggered otherwise we might have had to kill you Harry, mate," revealed Charlie.

"Hear that Richard?" Ron called over Luna's giggles.

"You wouldn't have been the only one murdering someone." Hermione added, looking at Ginny. The redhead tried to look somewhat defiant but her guilt offered a smile instead.

"Hey! You lot sound like you're enjoying yourselves too much," Fred shouted to them, "Have the decency to shut up or include me!"

* * *

Hermione walked into the employees' lounge at Books, Bludgers & Batteries with her lunch in her hand at 12:42 on Tuesday afternoon.

"Hermione, duckie, finally!" Natalie hailed, sitting at a table with Talia. Rupert Dash, a fellow employee, sat on one of the sofas with a novel and a cup of tea.

"I'm 20 minutes late to eat because of particularly difficult customers," she sighed, taking a seat, "I created Books, Bludgers & Batteries intending to erase bloodlines, but some things never change."

"What happened?" inquired Talia.

"This pureblood couple came in and gave me hell because they decided I was an incompetent, Muggleborn worker."

"Should have told them you're a bleeding owner," stated Natalie, voice hard.

"They knew. It only angered them further." Hermione said.

"Forget them," advised Talia.

"This'll take your mind off those wassocks," Natalie started, becoming animated, "Sex."

"What?" the brunette wondered, giving a small laugh.

"During the last 10 minutes of our break, Talia and I are going to chat with you about sex!"

"It was her idea. She was talking about it before you came in." Talia remarked, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"And don't worry about Rupert—he's thoroughly absorbed in his book, practically deaf," the blonde told her. Hermione laughed again, expecting this from her friend.

"So, there are three types." Natalie lectured.

"Of sex?" pondered the ex-Head Girl.

"Well that's what we're talking about, peach!"

"Only three?"

"Three _main _types. All others are subcategories."

"Oh goodness," mumbled Talia, grinning.

"She is amused because she knows what they are," Natalie said, watching her, "Now, Hermione—there is making love, sex, and fucking." Hermione choked on her sandwich and looked at Rupert, aghast. When she continued to cough, Talia performed a spell.

"Natalie!" she gasped, face red but alive.

"Love, I told you—he's a statue. As I was saying, three types! I listed them in order of their severity."

"S-Severity?"

"Yes. Making love is the most, shall we say… tame. It is preferred when you are tired and don't want to do much work, when you want to show your partner how much you care about them through physical contact, and when special days come up, such as Christmas and Valentine's Day." Natalie reported.

"This is where you entered the pictured." Talia noted.

"So… the next type?" Hermione wondered, looking furtively at Rupert. She was not quite intrigued with the blonde's notions regarding sex.

"Sex," the philosopher smiled, "This one has the most subcategories by far. Make-up sex, angry sex, sympathy sex…. Well, anyway, it is the type most often used, probably because it lets you express some of your feelings for your partner but rid of some of that sexual frustration as well. Like I said, it's the most common. Happens every day, on anniversaries…"

"And making love doesn't do that?"

"No. It only lets you convey love, hence the name. It's enjoyable but pure emotion—nothing really dodgy going on."

"Our own personal sexologist," declared Talia.

"You love me," she answered, patting her hand, "Now, the last: fucking."

"It sounds so brutal." Hermione pointed out.

"Well it isn't making love," Natalie smiled, "It's along the lines of animal sex. Humans revert back to their animalistic sexual instincts, to some degree. This type is pure lust. It happens when you're randy as _hell_, and just want to bang your lover like there's no tomorrow. There is no emotion involved whatsoever and it's rough… good for birthdays. If it's done correctly you'll get to the point where you can't think about anything but how damn good it feels, even forgetting your partner's name."

"So let me summarize," Harry's girlfriend offered, smiling, "Making love is the sentiment, sex is the sentiment _and _lust, and fuh—and the last, is the lust."

"Oh, you've got it! I'm so proud!"

"Am I allowed to share this riveting theory?"

"Please do! It should be shared with all," grinned Natalie. Talia laughed, "Now, what we also need to cover—faking it!" Hermione let out a scandalized laugh as the door to the room opened.

"Talia, Natalie—Tomain needs you out now. The midday rush is coming in and Franky needs her break." Alex informed.

"Oh damn," the blonde witch replied. Talia discarded her trash with her wand and stood up. Natalie followed suit, "We'll finish this later!"

Hermione walked out of Books, Bludgers & Batteries about 15 minutes after five o'clock. She had been considering going to the Ministry and waiting for Harry's shift to end since 3:30, and was almost set on doing so. (She wanted to surprise him, even if it weren't much). Her poor baby had gotten home ten minutes following ten the previous night; he came with sore muscles and complaints of, what else, his job. Harry wasn't _as _displeased however, because she was actually there to Heal him and listen to his ranting.

"Oh! Excuse me! I am _so _sorry," Hermione rushed to apologize, having bumped into a person and registering so a little late, "Truly, my apologies!" She looked up at the person—a young man, with slick white-blonde hair…

"Well well well, look who it is—my former partner in Headship," he smirked, folding his arms. She stared at him, mouth open.

"Do you go out of your way to hit innocent pedestrians Granger? It's rather rude." Draco Malfoy said, his gray eyes arrogantly on her face. He was dressed very well and immaculately, as usual, in jet black robes.

Hermione shook herself out of her trance.

"I said I was sorry," she quietly stated, not sure of what to do next. It had been almost two years since her last sighting of the wizard before her.

"Hmm," he claimed, stealthily appraising her. His gaze then shot down the street, "You don't look half bad Granger. Your little shop is down there, isn't it?"

"Yes." Hermione admitted, highly on her guard. Malfoy was unnerving her, especially his seemingly civil attitude. What should she do?

"Books, Bludgers & Batteries. I know a lot about it, and Tomain—she's my great great aunt. I should have known _you _would produce _that_." She did not answer but continued to look at him.

"So, how are your dear friends? Potty and Weasel Man?" Malfoy remarked. There was definite resentment and mockery in his voice.

"Perfectly fine." Hermione relayed, in a strained tone.

"Potter's an Auror, to feed his ego, and Weasley works for the pointless Magical Sports Department," he commented, "Still miserably bound to Saint Potter, I presume."

"Pointless? Odd, when _you _were on an actual Quidditch team Malfoy. And yes—I _am _still gladly with Harry," she coldly retorted. He gave a satisfied, superior smile.

"Yes, I was on the Falmouth Falcons. But I left after one season when I realized how juvenile, demeaning, and worthless Quidditch really is."

"Decided to market a deadly potion after that then, huh? One which you created with Harry?" Malfoy chuckled appreciatively.

"I do believe you've been stalking me, Granger. So tell me—what am I doing now?" he pondered.

"I do not know," she truthfully told him. _Living off your family name and wealth… waiting for your father_.

"It's better that way," Malfoy declared, his eyes dancing darkly, "If I ever need anything of you, I won't hesitate to visit Boring Books & Bludgers. It was pleasant seeing you again."

Draco Malfoy walked away from her taking his original route. Hermione turned on her heel and watched his back with distrusting eyes.

"Have a good evening Mudblood!" he bid. A short, cruel laugh then followed. She balled her fists, huffed, and hurried on her own way. That had been a less than agreeable surprise.

* * *

Cho's owl inquiring about their lunch date had come Monday afternoon to Harry's office. He deliberated for an hour (much to the annoyance of the owl) and sent a reply that Wednesday was good. Hermione wandered into his mind very soon after and the anxiety of telling her about it set in. How would he explain that it meant nothing and that she truly was the only witch with whom he wanted to be? _You can't do it. She'll kill you either way!_ the frantic part of him insisted. Harry was going to tell her Monday but his four hour session drove it from his mind.

And so he planned to let her know Tuesday after work, but she had her own story about Malfoy to tell and he forgot once again.

"You saw Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, going after her into the kitchen.

"Yes." Hermione said testily. She then related her conversation with him to Harry.

"He didn't say what he's doing for a career?" the dark haired wizard wondered.

"No, and I didn't care," she claimed, beginning to collect food items for dinner, "I'm willing to bet my _life _he doesn't have one!"  
"He's hiding out like a coward, with every other dark wizarding family missing Voldemort." Harry concluded, staring at the window.

The result was another day of Harry not informing Hermione about Cho. He himself even forgot about it, right up until five minutes before he was supposed to meet her on the day of the actual engagement.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this entire chapter last night. I felt badly for not posting so decided to get it all out. Maybe that's way it sucks…. I hate this chapter, by the way.

The lunch with Cho will start off chapter eight. If anyone is wondering what happened to Crookshanks, so am I. Lol. I suppose he's at Hermione's parents' house. Harry still has Hedwig and Ron has Pig, however. They just haven't been mentioned.

I made an extremely major mistake in chapter 4. I said Malfoy played for the Harpies. Well, the Harpies only hire women, so that's not gonna work, lol. Thus I had him say it was the Falcons in this chapter. I'll have it fixed by next week.


	8. Karma

A/N: Hello! Did I not say I would post again? Ho yeah! I rock so much I'm in danger of being heavy metal. Anyway! Here is the next chapter. Let's see if I can get two weeks in a row of posting on time, shall we? Thanks to my new reviewers—you keep me from destroying this story.

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 8**

Harry walked into the bustling restaurant tautly, looking around. He was five minutes late and his hair was more mused than ordinary from the wind. _Maybe I shouldn't have come. I'm nervous and Hermione will kill me for not telling her first, _he deduced.

"Mr. Potter!" the waiter at the reception desk greeted, smiling. He jumped a bit and looked at him.

"Er… hello."

"Wonderful to see you! Do you need to be seated?"

"No. I'm… meeting someone, thanks." Harry moved into the establishment and soon spotted Cho: she was seated by one of the windows. He sped over to her in order to make the staring, smiling faces blurs.

"Hi," he said, planting himself in the chair opposite her.

"Hello Harry!" she smiled, a tincture of pink on her cheeks.

"Sorry I was late."

"Oh, no, it's all right! A… a waiter hasn't come yet."

"Right." There was silence. Harry pulled a menu toward him and looked through it. Cho avoided his eyes and fiddled with her long hair. He glanced at her after more than half a minute of stillness. Was it going to be as awkward as it had been on their first date? Because that would be unbearable.

He opened his mouth to speak when he knew what he wanted to eat and could no longer pretend to observe the menu. At that exact moment however, the waitress appeared.

"May I take your orders?" she breathed, grinning at the Boy Who Prevailed.

Two minutes later she walked away with their preferences and a light head. _She _was going to be waiting on Harry Potter!…

"It's still like that for you?" Cho wondered, half-smiling.

"Yes, but five times worse," he replied. She smiled then looked down at the table. It wouldn't suffice, her not meeting his gaze. The tension had to disappear.

"So… how is work for you? How has _life _been since Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Very good, actually. _Witch Weekly_ is… marvelous. I love it. I'm an editor. Not the highest of course, pretty low in fact, but an editor nonetheless," He smiled, "I write an article a week, on average."

"So you didn't move to Wales?"

"Oh, I did! Right after Hogwarts. It was only for a year though, and I stayed with my dad. It wasn't that great."

"Oh," nodded Harry, "So are you seeing anyone?"

"Not currently." Cho muttered, taking her focus away from his face. She cleared her throat.

"Well… what about you," she pondered, her voice brightening, "I know you're an Auror."

"Yes, I'm an Auror and don't really enjoy it."

"That's horrible Harry!"

"I know," he grinned, ashamed.

"Well, you shouldn't stay if you don't like it. What about something else? Quidditch?" Harry looked at her.

"Why that?"

"You were a spectacular Seeker, and flier. And you were so passionate about it…" Her voice had taken a softer tone to it. He sighed and then said:

"I don't know."

"If being an Auror had anything to do with… with You-Know-Who, he's gone Harry," He gazed at her again, "He's gone, and you made sure of that. Do what you want." Cho told him. The old Gryffindor stared at the salt and pepper shakers.

"I really admired you for that," she commented after a short interval of silence.

"For what?" Harry inquired.

"Defeating You-Know-Who. I always thought you were amazing for having the courage to fight him."

"Thanks," he half-smiled, "But it might have just been stupidity." She laughed.

Their drinks came and they sipped them for a brief period of time.

"You're still with Hermione Granger?" pondered Cho, stirring her straw. She didn't look at him until the question was out.

"Yes," responded Harry, confidently, "It'll be three years in November."

"Wow. That's… remarkable."

"Yeah. So is she."

"How is she? And your other friend… Ron Weasley, the Tornado hater?"

Harry returned to his office three minutes after he was supposed to have been there. The lunch had gone extraordinarily well. Their talk never really faltered again and quietness did not make its mark; it was easy talking to her and they laughed plenty of instances. He was shocked at how much being in her presence had changed. Perhaps it was simpler now that they were older and he no longer had feelings for her to complicate matters. Harry knew Ron would ask how his hour meeting went and so left (snuck from) his department 30 minutes early and stole away to Ron's.

He visited Ron's flat for an hour after they left the Ministry and then he departed for his own home. He knew he was going to have to suck it up and tell Hermione about Cho—better the day of than not at all. As it was, Harry did _not _let her know of his lunch date, again. He felt, however, he was not to be held responsible; it was wiped from his mind once more and this time by his girlfriend's doing. Hermione had evidently missed Harry a significant deal, and had since three o'clock that afternoon, and his being late home only made it more profound. She showed her happiness of being back with him by snogging him heartily on the couch. It quickly led to fooling around, which then avalanched into a heated, desperate shag that deleted all concern's from Harry's mind.

They lied next to one another on the sofa afterward and spoke idly of many things. Hermione's responses became more and more scarce until they stopped altogether. She had fallen asleep, and it was the first time Harry could recount of her doing so before him. He kissed her forehead and fifteen minutes later slipped off himself. They awoke later that night some time after ten only to remember they were where they had been hours before, and decided the resolution was to simply make love.

"Er, Hermione." Franky started, climbing the last step and walking on Books, Bludgers & Batteries' second landing.

"Yes?" she responded, turning around from reshelving books.

"There is a very… lively man downstairs. He wants to see you."

"Me?"

"He asked specifically for you," she revealed, shrugging. Hermione set the book down, slight trepidation settling in her bones, and followed Franky down to the first floor. (It was the proceeding day in the early afternoon).

"Front desk." Franky mentioned. She looked to it and saw Arthur Weasley talking vivaciously to Edmund Hack, the other employee who regularly worked the service desk. A warm smile rested on her face.

"Hi Mr. Weasley." Hermione greeted.

"Hermione!" he hailed, grinning. He ceased conversation with Edmund, who seemed a tad grateful.

"How are you?"

"I am well! I'm here to pick up those books I ordered a while back!"

"Oh! Yes—right." Some weeks ago Mr. Weasley had come to Books, Bludgers & Batteries with a list of books he wanted (all about Muggles). The shop only had one of the four but put in an order for the others. They had arrived on Monday and were the focus of televisions, computers, and electricity.

"Here you are Mr. Weasley," she said, having gone to the back and emerging with his tomes.

"Thank you Hermione," he remarked, happily accepting them, "This is my seventh book on elek-tricity! It's truly fascinating."

"Is that all you needed?"

"Well… yes. I was just supposed to collect the books and then leave, but… oh, one quick nip to see what's new won't hurt!" Arthur set the three books down on a counter and then hurried off.

Hermione watched him go, smiling.

* * *

Harry let out an aggravated sigh that sounded closer to a growl as he got into the elevator, which was (surprisingly) empty. His morning had been spent dueling against another Auror of a slightly higher station to test him and see if he had been practicing. After a 30 minute rest, Medwick had sent him to run a few errands between departments and they were what he continued to do on his Thursday afternoon.

_I'm an _Auror, _not a damned assistant, _he thought, _why can't he do this himself? Or get someone else to._

"It could be worse—I could be sitting at my desk with reports." Harry mumbled. The elevator shook insignificantly and came to a halt, opening its doors.

A single witch with dark hair entered studying the parchment in her hands. Harry looked at her and smiled to himself; she hadn't noticed him.

"Interesting, is it?" he asked, leaning over to invade her personal space. Parvati jumped and turned.

"Goodness Harry!" she said, somewhat exasperatedly. He laughed.

"Sorry—didn't know you scared so easily."

"I don't, I was just really into what I was reading!" Parvati reasoned, straightening the parchment.

"Important Department of Mysteries documents?" he wondered.

"I'm not at will to reveal that."

"So, no. What is it then? A hidden copy of Wizard of the Month or something?"

"I would _hope _you think of me as _not _being that shallow Harry Potter," she indecorously voiced, hands on her hips, "This isn't fourth year!" Somewhere behind it all, Parvati knew he was joking and so could not be fully outraged. As if to prove it, he laughed again.

"Of course I don't think you're shallow. I just wanted to see your response."  
"Well, har har," she smiled.

"So how have you been? I haven't seen you in a bit." Harry remarked.

"All right," sighed Parvati, "Trying to keep up with my job and not die from the pressure of it. I love it, but I won't deny its difficulty. You?"

"I'm great so long as I don't think about what I do for a living." She laughed.

"Still unsatisfied."

"I suppose."

"How's Hermione?" Parvati asked.

"Better than I am. Hey, Ron got tickets for the Bat game this Saturday—" commented Harry.

"I know. Seamus told Lavender who told me."

"Are you coming?"

"I don't know… last time was not precisely thrilling for me or Lavender. Or Hermione, for that matter."

"Quidditch is _always _thrilling. You three were merely having an off day," he told her. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Anyway, I ask because it's been awhile since we've hung out with you girls."

"Well… maybe, Harry. If we go out to eat afterwards I'll definitely come, but I might forgo the match… I got enough of those at Hogwarts. I enjoyed watching you fly but not much else." Parvati remarked.

"All right then—we'll eat dinner when it's done and see you there."

"Okay," she half-smiled, "Oh, I get off at the next level. I'll see you later?"

Harry, who was supposed to be completing Medwick's errands, decided they could wait a period of time. He had never had a desire to perform them in the first place.

"I'll escort you." The Boy Who Prevailed noted.

"Oh, thanks Harry!"

The two former Housemates got off at the following floor and walked to Parvati's unknown destination.

"Another reason I'm weary of the game is because there is a wonderful chance _he _will be there. He was a huge Kestrel supporter and went to most every competition," she explained. _He _was Timothy, her ex-boyfriend with whom she had broken up a month previously. (Their relationship had not ended as well as it could have).

"It… it would've been all right," Harry distractedly replied, practically colliding with her to avoid the torrent of flying memos leaving the floor, "We would have jinxed him had he bothered you."

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it?"

"Harry!" a jubilant voice hailed. He froze, placing it instantly. He looked around in a paranoid manner and saw the Minister of Magic coming eagerly toward him, having exited a hall on the left.

"Minister, sir," he answered.

"Up here as well, are you?" Roberts inquired.

"Uh…"

"Perfect! I've been wanting a word with you! Care to walk around?" The young man quickly decided that he would rather return to working than be Robert's prized companion.

"I was just leaving, sir, to be honest. A lot of things to do you know!" Harry said.

"Oh…"

"You can stop by my office later if it's that important," he offered, beginning to recede slowly and knowing that Medwick hated people disturbing his workers, even if it was the Minister, "Later Parvati!" Harry then made a fast beeline back to the lift, thinking he could not avoid Henry Roberts forever.

Harry Apparated into his bedroom after work only to hear faint voices coming from another room in the apartment. After changing into more comfortable clothing, he walked the length of the hall and the two voices became distinct: they belonged to Hermione and Ginny. He stopped at a point where he could hear their conversation but they could not see him.

"… so Natalie starts talking about faking it while we're checking the inventory! I swear, that woman is the boldest person whom I have ever met." Hermione reported.

"What'd she say?" Ginny questioned.

"That she's had her fair share of poor lovers. 'I can't _believe _how many times I've had to act as if I were enjoying the sex! No woman should have to pretend, end of story. We do it out of pity, so we don't hurt their sensitive pride'—that's what she said. Oh, but then she asked _me _if I've ever had to!" Harry's grin at Natalie's statement vanished immediately. He was now agonizingly desirous to hear the brunette's next sentence.

"Oh, oh," laughed Ginny, "I _have _to know your answer! And don't lie! I want to know if you've ever had to fake it with Harry!"

An obdurate part of him wanted to suddenly run out and make himself known, not _ever _having to hear Hermione's reply. Another part, most likely his ego, craved to know how she thought he did in bed.

"I told her," she commenced evenly, "That I've only had to do it three times.

_HA!_, his pride triumphantly screamed out, _only_ three_! Considering how many times we've done it! _But still… three was not equal to zero….

"Explain," commanded Ginny, continuing to smile contently. _Yes, _he thought, _explain._

"All right… well, one time, I just did _not_ feel like it. But Harry was really in the mood so I did it for his sake, a-and I sort of owed it to him, and it wouldn't have looked good had I not pretended to enjoy it. Another time I actually _did_ want to do it and was into it, but at some point I realized I wasn't going to… to… you know—_get _there, so I faked it. But only the last bit." Hermione told her.

"And the third?"

"Harry was just _not_ doing it for me that time, I'm sorry to say. I was unimpressed, whatever my excuse, so I didn't try." Hermione told her friend, humor in voice. Ginny giggled. Harry, on the other hand, was appalled. That was most certainly _not _funny! How on Earth did they find his inability to please her hilarious! It was humiliating is what it was! At least the first two times had been justified—they had been no real fault of his own. But this! This….

"Well if it's only been three instances then I'd say you two are doing abnormally well. Harry must be satisfying your needs—good man," the redhead remarked, smiling. _Yeah, listen to Ginny_, he thought victoriously.

Thinking he had spent enough time eavesdropping, Harry walked out of the hall and to the living room as the old Head Girl was in the middle of a sentence. She shut up upon seeing him.

"Harry!" she said, a little surprised at his presence.

"Hello," he greeted, placing a small kiss on her lips, "Ginny, nice to see you invading my flat."

"Bugger off," she smiled in return.

"How long have you been here?" Hermione pondered, looking at him.

"Less than three minutes. I changed then came out here," her boyfriend answered. The witches exchanged significant looks, the kind Harry and Ron gave one another when they wanted to communicate with their eyes instead of words.

"What? It's the truth."

"Sure. How was work?"

"Pissy," he replied, "Are you coming to the game on Saturday? Because I asked Parvati and—"

"No," she blandly stated.

"Well that's what she said, so _we'll _go to the match and then we can all go to eat later."

"Sounds fine."

"Will you come watch the game with us Ginny?" Harry asked, turning to her.

"If Richard wants to—I'll be with him on Saturday. Oh, but you can for_get_ it if Ron is going to act like—" she began.

"Ron will be too caught up watching to notice even Richard, trust me." The phone then rang and they all looked to it.

"Er… it's blue, Hermione." The once Seeker morbidly observed.

"Right," she said, getting up from the couch and walking hurriedly to pick it up.

"Still deathly afraid of her parents because you know you're lying to them?" Ginny cheerily wondered.

"No," he responded, glowering at her, "It's only her father…" She snorted.

"You can kill the darkest wizard ever but not face a Muggle father. You're odd, Harry."

"And yet possess enough to keep Hermione satisfied," he mumbled under his breath.

"What?" Ginny replied sharply, studying him shrewdly.

"Nothing!" he smiled.

* * *

Hermione's parents wanted to set up another get together for the following week, much to Harry's dismay. He asserted that he would not do it, initially, and it took a lot of persuading after Ginny had gone on Hermione's part to convince him otherwise. Persuading that involved her lips, her tongue, and his face…. He eventually gave in.

On Saturday, Harry went to the Ministry for a few hours to work before the Quidditch match. It was the compromise he and Medwick had reached; before, Medwick had been adamant in not giving Harry the day off at all. Hermione spent the morning at home with her mother, father, grandmother, and Crookshanks. Harry came back to the flat at 2:30 and noted that she had not yet left her former home. He ate lunch and then waited for 3:30 to arrive—the game was at four o'clock, but they (Dean, Ron, Seamus) were meeting at Ron's flat at 3:30. She returned as he was leaving and bid him goodbye, saying she would see him in the evening.

Harry opened the door to his flat with a grin on his face. The match had ended 20 minutes ago and it had been a good one, with the Kenmore Kestrels as the victors.

"Hermione," he called, walking in, "We've got to be at the restaurant in about an hour. Neville, Hannah, Lavender, Parvati, Luna, and Samantha are coming as well." He removed his coat, threw it on the sofa, and strode past the kitchen.

"Hermi—oh, there you are." Harry stated, doubling back. Hermione sat at the table, looking at him intensely. Her hands sat on top of each other and a piece of parchment was in front of her.

"Er… something wrong?" he asked, walking over to her vigilantly.

"No. Not really," she responded.

"Then… why do you look like that?" Hermione did not answer. She stared at him for a few more moments before saying:

"This came for you via an owl a little while after you left. I didn't open it because I didn't have to—it wasn't folded." She picked up the parchment and held it out. He took it charily, glancing at her. She appeared very unhappy.

It was a note from Cho and read:

_Harry—_

_I really enjoyed lunch on Wednesday. It was fun, wasn't it? Perhaps we can do it again next week… say Thursday or Friday? You can send Hedwig with an answer. It'll be nice to see that gorgeous owl again._

_Cho_

Harry gaped at her when he had finished. He had forgotten to tell her and now it was going to be twenty times worse. Dear Lord…

"So you had lunch with Cho Chang? The last time you spoke of her, you told me you had just seen her at the pub. I had no idea you two were friendly again, let alone going on lunch dates. How is she?" Hermione flatly said.

"Hermione," he hastily began, dropping the note and talking with his hands, "I was going to tell you, I really was, since Monday! But something always—"

"Why didn't you tell me instead of going behind my back," she exploded, standing up, "It seems as though you didn't _want _me to know about it! If you had just _told _me, I wouldn't have thought anything of it! But the fact that you hid it, Harry—"

"I _meant _to tell you Hermione, I really did! But something always came up and I would forget! I swear!"

"And you couldn't tell me after you ate with her either!"

"I forgot then too, I really did! I am so sorry! But you don't have to worry, b-because nothing happened!"

"_Should _something have happened?" she wondered angrily, hands now on her hips.

"No! No… I do _not _care about Cho like that, at all! It really was just to catch up! I was being nice. You _know _that I'm with you and so does everybody else. Honestly Hermione, I just forgot," he pleaded. It was quiet again while she glared at him.

"The next time you do something with another witch, please let me know. And do _not _manage to forget! Inscribe it on your bloody arm if you have to…" Hermione demanded, her voice softening as she looked back down at the parchment. Her arms were folded.

"So… so do you care if I have lunch with her again?" Harry questioned.

"No," she remarked, after another interval of silence. He smiled unsurely.

"I really am sorry."

"I know you are." He winced.

"Still angry?" he asked guiltily.

"Of course I am!" She glowered at him yet again while she surveyed him. He had a hunch she was not completely furious with him, just annoyed.

"Let's go." Hermione commanded, walking around the table and grabbing him by the front of his clothes.

"Where?"

"To have sex." Angry sex, according to Natalie.

"What?" he pondered, though horribly excited. What kind of blissful twist was this?

"I am going to mark you as mine. Every woman should know you belong to me and are happy. And this isn't a treat—it's punishment!"

"Yes ma'am." Harry grinned, letting her lead him. Maybe he should anger Hermione more often…

* * *

A/N: Quick notes.

**1. Falron**: just think you should know, you're not my beta. Lol. Thanks though.

2. I haven't gotten to the core of the story yet, but I'm getting there. It's like the edge of the rollercoaster before the 150 feet drop.

3. I don't think I'm going to make the 6 month goal of having this story completed, lol. But it'll be done definitely before May.

4. Next chapter, next week.


	9. Unwanted Attention

A/N: Sorry I didn't post last week—but I had to really focus on my stupid history class. Well, it's over now (thank GOD) so I'm relieved. I really wanna thank my reviewers, new and old. You people are freakin' great. I'm at 50 reviews! Yay!

All right, I do have something on my mind I wanna get out. It's about this whole Harry, sex thing, lol. Some of your reviews questioned it, like why he was seemingly obsessed with it, and it sort of made me fearful of writing any more sex anything. :Nervous laugh: I myself thought it a bit… much, for lack of a better word, but I know my reasoning behind it. (I'll even explain it further next chapter). Anyway, I resolved to keep it to a bare minimum from here on out, and try to not make it so prevalent, beginning _next_ chapter.

**I Never Lived**

**Chapter 9**

Harry's second "meeting" with Cho was scheduled for Friday, this time at a pub. Before that, however, he had to endure a social gathering with Hermione's parents on Wednesday. They were going to the theater to watch a Shakespearian play (Hermione's idea) and then possibly out to eat in Muggle London.

"Shakespeare _and _your dad, Hermione," Harry questioned Monday evening, "I'd better get something out of this night too!"

"Oh, get over it Harry!" she instructed. _How on _Earth _does he plan to deal with this if we ever get married?_ Of course, she did not say this thought out loud and seconds later secretly blushed when analyzing it.

On Tuesday both Hermione and Harry ran into former schoolmates, but with very different attitudes and results. A young man with fair hair and light blue eyes walked up to the service desk about ten minutes before Hermione's lunch break and asked for her.

"_Everyone _asks for Hermione. She's about as famous as her boyfriend." Natalie revealed, getting up to find the brunette. He smiled.

Moments later, both witches came walking from the back. The blonde pointed at the waiting wizard and Hermione's face lit up.

"David!" she exclaimed.

"Hermione." David Rice greeted, smiling genuinely. She reached him and gave him a hug.

"How are you?"

"I'm perfectly fine. And you?"

"I'm… fantastic! How's work?"

"_I _love it. I know others don't exactly think of my department as being action packed, but to each his own."

"Let's move." Hermione suggested, noticing they were right in front of the service desk and might soon be in customers' way.

Once they were in the sitting area, David struck the conversation back up.

"So how is work for you? Though I can assume that you love it."

"To put it mildly," she smiled, "I'm doing something that I really am passionate about."

"You were that excited about it the last time I saw you as well, which was around six months ago."

"It's really been that long?" Hermione pondered, inwardly wincing.

"Yes," he replied.

"You know, we go out a _lot_, usually to eat and watch Quidditch games. The boys go to drink quite often also. The next time we get together you should definitely come!" He nodded.

"All right. I actually see them fairly regularly, mostly Neville Longbottom. Seamus Finnigan can be heard a mile away and I see Harry once every full moon, but that's because it's widely known his boss is a mental tyrant." David remarked.

"I've heard enough horror stories about Medwick to believe it," she commented, smiling.

"Why didn't he end up playing Quidditch? He was one of the best players I've ever seen."

"It's… really his story to tell. You'll have to ask Harry. So, how's Rebecca?"

"Oh. Er, I wouldn't really know. We broke up at the end of September."

"Ah. Right."

"I'm by myself right now and don't mind," he told her. Hermione nodded, "Hey, are you off for lunch soon?"

"Yes, in fact," she answered.

"Do you want to go eat? My treat."

"I'd love that."

"Great," smiled David.

During Harry's lunch hour he visited Diagon Alley with Ron and the wizard who could be heard a mile away. The true purpose of the excursion was that he needed gold from his Gringotts vault; he was running low and the rent for both flats was near at hand. Ron and Seamus opted to wait while Harry went into the bank and retrieved his money.

"We'll be at Fred and George's, Harry." Ron said as his best friend started up the steps.

"And hurry up—I'm hungry!" advised Seamus. Harry waved him off.

"When aren't you?" the redhead inquired.

"Oh, _you're _one to say _anything _Weasley!"

The bank was rather busy, with every teller taking care of a customer, so Harry got into the shortest line he saw. (There was only one person in front of him). He toyed with the key in his pocket while he waited and looked around the immense building. Perhaps he would see Bill… sometimes he caught him walking around the premises.

It so happened that it wasn't Bill who caught his attention but another wizard whom he knew: Draco Malfoy. The ex-Slytherin was strolling in superciliously from the right and had on the robes of a Gringotts' employee. Harry's brow furrowed angrily as he glowered at his enemy. He looked just the same and Harry was willing to bet he acted same as well. The old hate came creeping back to him along with specific memories of encounters at Hogwarts. He turned and stared straight ahead, the disgruntled look still on his face. He had no idea his turn with Malfoy would have come so soon after Hermione's and did not want it at all. _I'll jinx him without so much as a word if he comes over here_, The Boy Who Prevailed rationalized.

Harry got exactly what he didn't want.

"Is that _really _you Potter? Or am I being punished?" Malfoy commented, once he had spotted Harry and gotten over the (very) brief, initial shock. Harry closed his eyes to calm himself before quickly glaring at the blond. He was smiling like he had discovered diamonds but his eyes were menacing. _Just don't say anything_.

"Decided to crawl from the dark bowels of the earth, have you?" the ex-Head Boy pondered, now a few feet from the old Gryffindor Seeker. Harry gritted his teeth and continued to look in front of him.

"I saw your Mudblood girlfriend not very long ago," Malfoy stated, watching him surreptitiously, "Has her own shop, does she?"

"That's more than you can say Malfoy. How did you manage to get this Gringotts' job? Through pay offs, threats, or both," Harry retorted, finally snapping. Malfoy's smirk widened, as if welcoming Harry's comeback, "Or was it influence? I didn't think much credit was still being given to your name, what with your father being the laughing stock of the wizarding world and most pathetic Death Eater." For a moment, the blond's sadistic content was wiped completely from his face as he leered at the dark haired young man.

"As always, Potter," he began slowly, the smile returning, "You speak of things you know nothing about." Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, considering the conversation over.

"I used my own will, talent, and tenacity to secure this job, and _that _is why I am Head of my department," Malfoy boasted, twirling his set of keys, "You, on the other hand, no doubt had your career handed to you, along with everything else you own. You've never had to work for anything Potter and it is the reason you are so weak."  
"This coming form the boy who was pampered endlessly by his crooked daddy and flighty mummy." Harry shot.

Malfoy's hand had gone to his robe pocket with surprising speed and Harry knew he was gripping his wand; his face was struggling to not appear furious. _Go on, use it—I _beg _you_, Harry thought heatedly. It was astonishing to realize how fresh and raw their resentment still was for one another.

"At least my parents weren't slaughtered like animals," Malfoy hissed, releasing his wand. He would surely be fired for battling a customer, no matter how gratifying. This time, Harry was the livid one. But before he could do anything, Malfoy began to retreat.

"It doesn't matter if you beat the Dark Lord or not Potter, you're still worthless," he called, "If you ever want to settle anything, you now know where I am."

"Yeah, and you'll be here until you get your precious father back." Harry responded, not sure if Malfoy had heard him.

Harry told his friends about the run-in with Malfoy and Ron was so riled up about it that he wanted to go right back to Gringotts and "confront the bloody ferret". Harry wasn't for it however, convinced that if he returned he would go to Azkaban for murdering Malfoy. The fact that he had seen him again rather ruined the rest of Harry's day, and he told Hermione about it when he got home.

"Hermione, I saw Malfoy today," he reported as he walked into their bedroom and began to remove his robes.

"Where?" she pondered, turning from hanging up clothes in the closet.

"Gringotts. The fucking prick works there."

"So _that's _what he does… he made it seem so dark and mysterious! What a liar." She then added a reprimanding shout of his name when she realized his choice of language.

"I don't know how he managed to stay hidden there for a year. He's still the most foul, rancid, piece of—" Harry aggressively began, though faltering before more swear words came out of his mouth, "Well, you know what I'm getting at."

"He hasn't changed—yes, I do. Well, _I _had lunch with David today."

"Rice?"

"Yes. He came into the shop around lunch and then we went out. I haven't seen him in months really nice." Hermione said, finishing the clothes and sitting on the bed.

"Hmm," he remarked, pulling a white t-shirt over his head. She raised an eyebrow.

"Surely it's not a problem for you Harry, especially after you own little lunch with Cho." He looked at her intently for a moment as if he had missed something.

"What? Problem? Oh, no—not with Rice! He's not a threat," Hermione frowned at this last sentence, "I'm still just fuming about Malfoy. I really wish he would get attacked by a hippogriff or something."

* * *

The next day brought the outing with the Grangers. Harry had several thoughts cross his mind as the hours passed and brought the time, seven o'clock, closer and closer. Some included: A) _I could lie and say that I have a four hour session tonight, though Hermione knows it's not until Friday_,B) _Half of the night will be spent in an atmosphere in which we can't talk—this is good_, C) _But he'll use the other half to torture me twofold_, D) _Who says we even have to go eat?_, E) _I'll fake being sick!_, F)_ I might feel much better if I just tell the truth and be prepared to run for my life_.

At 6:45, Harry walked tragically into the living room ready to leave. (They were meeting Hermione's parents at the theater and planned to Apparate to a nearby, safe spot). He was dressed in all black, semi-formal clothes, which included slacks & a tie, and had on a nice coat.

"You look too good to pout—stop it," Hermione noted, walking over to him. She fixed his collar and left a small kiss on his lips, "Tonight is going to go well and if I have to keep telling you this everytime we see them I'm going to scream."

She wore a black and red dress that flattered her, a black coat, and had her hair in bountiful, elegant curls. He let a smile escape.

"Will I be able to strip you of that dress later tonight?" Harry asked.

"We'll see," she replied, holding the smile back, "Now let's go. We'll be late."

Harry managed to get through the evening all right. He originally thought he would find common ground with Samuel in the fact that they had both been dragged to a Shakespeare production, but it turned out the play (_Othello_) was quite interesting and Mr. Granger actually _liked _the dead poet.

"My dad introduced me to him when I was younger." Hermione commented.

They went to a café for coffee instead of getting filling food, but the 30 minute visit was not much of a relief. The subject of Harry's overall dislike for Shakespeare came up and Samuel seized upon it.

"Dad, Harry's allowed to have his opinion." Hermione lectured, taking her boyfriend's hand. He looked defeated and had just vowed to not say anything else for the rest of the night.

"I know sweetheart," answered Mr. Granger.

"He just said he finds him to be generally sappy. Be nice Sam." Emma added.

"I always am, dear," he told her, folding his arms and grinning at Harry. He did not say much after that, to Harry's gratitude.

On Thursday The Boy Who Prevailed did not have to go into work—he had the day off. He did of course have strenuous training the next day and work on Saturday, but he chose not to focus on that. On Friday, he made sure to leave on time for lunch and left the Ministry to go meet Cho.

The pub, The Dragon's Tail, was full of wizards on their lunch breaks and this time he wasn't as quick to find her.

"I thought pub food was terrible," he claimed, sitting down in the booth when he finally did.

"Not this one. I come a lot." Cho grinned.

"I've only been here once and I don't remember much, thanks to the alcohol." She nodded and he noticed the tall, skinny glass next to her hand.

"Already?" he inquired, pointing to it.

"I got it when I first came in, it's nothing," she half-laughed, "Only a Fairy's Dust!"

"A feminine drink."

"Well what do you think I _am_?" This made Harry laugh lightly.

"What'll you have?" the waiter shot at them when he arrived, not bothering to look at them.

"Fish and chips." Harry responded.

"The same." Cho chimed in.

"Right," the server said. He rapidly glanced at the two, saw Harry, looked again, and then "hmph"ed. It was a nice change from blatant worship.

Forty minutes later, they had eaten and each had one drink (making it Cho's second Fairy's Dust).

"You know, Harry," she began, her face beaming due to the laughter from a story he had just told, "I'm sorry our relationship ended so badly."

"Yeah… yeah so am I," he acknowledged, playing with his empty glass, "But we were younger, and confused."

"I suppose," Cho nodded, "And we've changed now."

"Obviously, if I can make you smile."

"Oh, but you've always been able to do that!" the witch guaranteed, smiling. He looked at her momentarily and then gave a rapid, sloppy grin. Was something wrong? Why was his neck starting to feel hot? To ignore this sensation, Harry studied the bar for a bit. She took the opportunity to gaze at him.

"Harry, do you ever think about what would have happened if we… _hadn't _broken up? Or at least, not like that." Cho wondered. He reluctantly pulled his attention away from the bar.

"Er, that was… that was years ago, Cho."

"I know, but I do. I wasn't fair to you, because of the whole… Cedric, issue...," Why was this taking a scary turn? They had been laughing not two minutes earlier, "But if I hadn't been so… well, we might have really had something."

"Maybe." Harry muttered, wanting to go back to laughing.

"It was mainly my fault, and I truly regret it. I liked you, so much," she revealed. He didn't reply, not knowing what to say. It was becoming uncomfortable.

"Does Hermione know you're here?" The uneasiness suddenly exploded. He then observed how close she was to him; at some point during their conversations, she must have progressively moved and he hadn't noticed.

"Cho," he warningly started, stuck. If he didn't want to fall out of the booth and cause a scene he had to stay where he was. Nonetheless, he inched away from her somewhat.

"I'm _so _much better for you, Harry! I can make you happier!"

"I'm perfectly happy with Hermione." Harry steely stated. Oh, this had gone so _very _wrong! What a mistake.

"Oh!" scoffed Cho, looking angry for a moment.

"Look—"

"Besides, I know there's no way _she _can possibly keep you happy in _all _areas of your relationship," the old Ravenclaw half-whispered, slipping her left hand under his robes and placing it dangerously close to the crotch of Harry's pants. Highly alarmed, he looked down. She took advantage of the situation and his distraction by trying to kiss him. This was the breaking point.

"Okay—no!" Harry exclaimed, holding back his fury. He sped out of the booth and away from a shocked Cho.

"What—" she commenced.

"You know what Cho, this is not going to happen! I am with _Hermione _and I am _not _giving her up for you! When did I give you any signal that indicated otherwise? I thought we'd be able to forget about what happened with us and actually be friends, but—"

"Friends? I don't _want _to be your _friend_! I want _you_! I thought maybe you'd realize that you need to dump her and see what's better that's out there! Did you not listen to a word I said?" By now much of The Dragon's Tail had fallen silent and was watching them. He glared at her.

"I think it's best if we don't see one another anymore, Cho. This was a disaster." Harry told her. He took money from his pocket and threw it on the table.

"Harry," she began, wearing an affronted expression and lowering her voice, "Do _not _leave me like this."

"Well, I am." Harry walked away from her and stormed out of the pub, not looking back once. He was _incensed_ that he had just gone through that, practically having been sexually harassed by an ex-girlfriend.

* * *

Harry did not exactly look like the epitome of happiness when he walked into Books, Bludgers & Batteries ten minutes later, and so when he asked for Hermione Talia hurriedly told him she was in her office.

The Muggleborn sat at her desk working on a civil suit, with an open book mere inches away, when her door was opened from the outside.

"If you would _please _kno—" she initiated in a frustrated voice. Hermione ceased, however, when she saw the intruder, "Harry." She stood up and dropped her quill.

"What are you doing here," He closed the door and moved in, taking out his wand, "Wait—what's wrong?" His face portrayed sheer annoyance and trouble as he wordlessly locked the door and put a spell on the room.

"Harry," she repeated, coming from around the desk and looking concerned.

He met her before she could finish her path to him and took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. It caught Hermione off guard and she grabbed the front of his robes to steady herself. Harry's hands moved to her waist as the first, profound kiss turned into another, and he walked her to the nearest wall. She didn't know what was happening or what had prompted Harry to come and snog her without words, but something told her not to object. By the time Harry kissed her ardently for the third time, Hermione was starting to need oxygen. When she felt her back collide with the wall, he pulled his lips away from hers.

"Har…" she tried to say, closing her eyes and catching her breath. And then she felt his hands on her thighs, traveling her curves and slopes, and her skirt being lifted up. She opened her eyes quickly.

"Harry—" But before she could say anything more, he had commenced kissing her again.

Harry put his body firmly against Hermione's, preventing her from moving much. He was against her in every sense, and as his hands hastened to undo his pants, she could clearly feel that he was hard. She gave a small whimper in his mouth, not sure if it was a plea to continue or stop. Seconds later, Harry pulled away from her face once more. Hermione heard his labored breathing right before he grabbed the bottom of her thighs, pushed himself into her with a grunt, and roughly lifted her up the wall. Hermione gave a shout of surprise, desire, and a bit of pain.

Harry began pumping in and out of her slowly, burying his face in her neck. She still had a hold of his robes though now it was for relief. She shut her eyes as her heart began to accelerate, and savored the feeling of him moving inside of her. After about 90 seconds, she let a long moan escape her without realizing it. Harry's grip then tightened on her legs and he pressed into her even further. His pace sped up and he started to thrust harder. He let out a tremendous groan not long after and a choked sob came from Hermione. She yanked his robes closer to her, feeling like they were going to rip, and kept her eyes tightly shut.

Harry began to thrust faster still, ramming into her with increasing force. It was beginning to hurt Hermione, but in the best way. Her hair, which had been in a bun, had fallen out long ago. She had never wanted him to keep going and stop simultaneously so much since they had begun shagging.

"Harry," Hermione gasped, having abandoned his robes in order for his stronger neck, "_Harry!_" She didn't know if it was to get his attention or an involuntary call of his name due to the pleasure.

He gave a powerful thrust at that moment, along with a small shout, and Hermione cried out helplessly, eyes now open and stuck on the ceiling.

"Oh God!" He kept going, his heart absolutely racing, lungs demanding air, and loins screaming for release.

Something was definitely wrong. There was no way Harry came to see her just to have sex; his body, the persistent, rapid, aggravated way in which he moved, conveyed something was bothering him. It was as if he wasn't even in the same room as Hermione, let alone on the same plane. She had to know what the matter was.

The climax came very quickly, and suddenly. Hermione's name slipped loudly from Harry's mouth and everything swayed for Hermione as she lost her breath and her eyes swam in the back of her head.

After two minutes, in which they collected themselves, leaning against the wall and waiting for their hearts to not feel like they were going to burst, Harry let go of his girlfriend. He let her down gradually, kissing her forehead.

"I'm sorry." Harry apologized, voice a bit raw. He cleared it and repeated himself, this time kissing her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but…"

"No, it's fine," Hermione assured, kissing him in return, "It's fine. I would have said something if I wanted you to stop."

"I'm sorry."

"Just tell me what's wrong, Harry. I know something is." He shook his head and hugged her closely, kissing her neck once. She held onto him fiercely.

"Tell me what it is, Harry, please. I want to know what happened to you."

* * *

A/N: All right, so that was the last, descriptive sex scene I'll probably put into the story; I don't want it to wear on your nerves. Let's see if I can get the next chapter up next week, eh? I'll explain why Harry rushed into her office and shagged her, if anyone is really wondering. Kay then… bye. 


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